


No Fight, Just Excitation

by annieapple24



Series: No Fight, Just Excitation [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: A little bit of everything, Angst, Building up to poly!Queen, But its fairly subtle, Casual Sex, Fighting, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add more tags later if I need to, Idiots who love each other a lot, Internalized Homophobia, Literally every chapter is a different pairing having a fight and then having sex, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sex, Smut, The boys are complete idiots, flat sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-12 12:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieapple24/pseuds/annieapple24
Summary: Maybe its not surprising that the ‘bitchiest band on earth’ were able to finally come together through fighting with each other. The story of how each of the boys go from fighting to… something more fun.One chapter for each pairing, telling that despite how much they fight with each other, they really do love each other.





	1. Freddie/Roger

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from lyrics in the song "One Vision". 
> 
> The boys constantly talk about how much they fought and bickered as a band, and yet it's clear they all had so much love and respect for each other as musicians and as people. I was thinking about how constant fighting would affect how they would all get together in a polyamory AU. 
> 
> This can be the OG Queen boys or the BoRhap!Queen boys, whichever your preference.

From the moment he met the man, Freddie had liked Roger. It was clear that the two had plenty in common. Freddie thought Roger was the best drummer he had ever had the pleasure of seeing perform in his life. And paired with the talented Brian May on guitar and the not too shabby Tim Staffel with them, Freddie ended up at most of Smile’s gigs because he enjoyed the music so much. 

The two became fast friends. Freddie loved to follow Roger to one of his favorite pubs, sometimes with Brian or Tim joining them, and stay with the blond until early into the morning drinking and laughing and having the time of his bloody life. In fact, Freddie could hardly remember a time when he had felt as happy as he did spending time with Roger. 

During one of these drinking sessions, Freddie got it into his head that he wanted to run his own shop and he wanted Roger to run it with him. He was determined that it was the best way to establish himself in London and start saving up enough money for all the things he would need to become famous. In his drunken state, he refused to take no as an answer from Roger, only to be surprised when Roger immediately agreed to the idea. Even more surprising, the next day after sobering up, they were both still heavily invested in the idea. 

The two managed to snag their own stall at Kensington market. To make things easier, Roger and Freddie found a little two bedroom flat in the area to share. Freddie was quite excited as he moved his own things into the small flat. Living with his best friend seemed like the greatest idea in the world! Until it wasn’t.

Freddie and Roger never really fought much. Not with each other at least. Roger had a temper that could flare up at any time, almost as if from nowhere, but Freddie had never minded it because it had never been directed towards him. The closest they had been to fighting was arguing over their favorite Beatles songs. But when they moved in together, all that changed. It only took a few weeks before it seemed like they were always fighting. 

It was never real fighting. Roger still did his best to keep his temper reigned in around Freddie, and Freddie never faulted Roger’s bouts of irrational anger because Roger always apologized to Freddie the moment he was calm again. Instead, they squabbled with each other almost constantly. They were still best friends, and they still had great times together, but damn if the arguing didn’t get on Freddie’s nerves sometimes. Roger had a tendency to sneak into Freddie’s room while he was gone and loot his not-so-secret booze stash under his bed. Freddie had a tendency to use up all the hot water at night before Roger was able to shower. Roger used the last of the instant coffee without replacing it and Freddie stole Roger’s clothes from the laundry to wear without asking. 

So they squabbled. They used the first few months together to work through it, finding compromises to avoid the worst of the arguing. It never went away completely, but it did get easier to live with. Eventually, it turned into something Brian often jokingly compared to the bickering of an old married couple. Freddie didn’t mind the comparison. Sometimes it even seemed close enough to the truth the way he and Roger interacted with each other. 

Freddie never shied away from Roger’s touches, even when Roger was quite a handsy drunk. One of the perks of living together was that it seemed to free the two of them from inhibitions when it came to touching each other. It started with letting their legs drape over each other’s on the couch or kissing each other on the cheek for a laugh. Now, it wasn’t even cause for one to blink when the other ran their hands through their hair or flopped on top of the other lying on the couch for a proper cuddle. Freddie loved it.

Freddie loved living with Roger in general. It was so different from his dorm at his boarding school, different from his short time living with his parents, and certainly different from his previous cheap, run down flat where he lived alone and seemed to always feel lonely. Even with the continuing arguments, Freddie loved it all, and never considered moving out. Really, if he were pressed to think about it, there was really only one thing Freddie would change. 

Roger was a ladies man. Everyone knew that. Freddie certainly never faulted the blond for it, it was just another part of Roger’s complex and colorful personality. On occasion, and especially after a Smile gig, Roger liked to bring girls back to the apartment. It didn’t bother Freddie at first. It wasn’t like Freddie never brought girls home for a fun night or two. In fact, he was nothing but impressed with the man the first time Roger brought home two guests to “entertain” that night. He ignored the sounds as usual and even poured a congratulatory drink to the smirking and ever-cocky Roger after the ladies had left for the night.

Then at some point, Freddie started to notice the clench of his stomach whenever he saw Roger with his arm around some stranger, his lips to her ear and his hand sliding ever so slightly beneath her short skirt. Freddie started having to fight the urge to vomit when he heard the tell tale moans issuing across the flat from Roger’s room. He hated the feeling. He hated not being able to look at Roger in the mornings anymore, hated leaving the pub early after a Smile gig to avoid having to see Roger flirt. He hated feeling like he was going mad.

Roger noticed of course. He always did.

“Are you okay, mate? You haven’t really been around much lately. And when I do see you, sometimes you seem a bit off,” Roger asked one evening over a shared dinner of fish and chips from the cheap cart down the street.

Roger was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of tight black trousers. Freddie had trouble looking him in the eye. He shrugged and mumbled something, hoping Roger would drop it.

“You’re not cheating on me, are you?”

It was obviously said as a joke, but the words made Freddie feel ill. He pushed his half-finished chips away and sat back from the small table. Freddie similarly tried to push back the anger that suddenly bubbled up inside him, but it wasn’t quite as easy as pushing away the basket of chips. Now, it seemed Freddie couldn’t even have a nice dinner without Roger making him sick.

“I said I’m fine, Roger. Leave me alone.” It came out as a low grumble, a tone rarely heard from the usually bright and bubbly Freddie Bulsara. 

“Seriously, Freddie. I’m your best friend. You can talk to me about anything,” Roger assured him, reaching over the table to put his hand on Freddie’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Just piss off, Roger. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Freddie smacked Roger’s hand away from him, too bitter and too sore to think about all the emotions the blond’s touch caused to flood his body.

Freddie could see the switch flip in Roger. Roger’s eyes darkened and his hands balled themselves into fists as he drew himself back away from Freddie. 

“You don’t have to be a fucking asshole. I was just trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well don’t. You’re not very good at it, darling,” Freddie answered, looking away from Roger out of guilt the moment the words spilled form his mouth. The sick feeling was spreading. Freddie could feel it tingle in his fingers and toes. Even his eyes were watering.

It scared Freddie a bit when Roger pushed himself away from the table with too much force, causing Freddie’s drink to spill and Roger’s own basket of chips to clatter wildly. Roger stood, ignoring the mess he made. 

“Fuck you, Fred. I don’t know what you got stuck up your arse, but you need to get your shit figured out,” Roger’s fist came down on the table again, causing more chips to fly and fall in the pool of water slowly dripping off the table onto the floor. “I know you’re a fucking drama queen, but you don’t need to ruin my fucking night just because you’re in a pissy mood.”

And there it was. It wasn’t so much the words Roger had said, but the way he said them, his voice dripping like acid, full of anger and heat. And this time Freddie knew Roger’s anger wasn’t irrational. He could feel the tears start to pour from his eyes, snot dripping from his nose. Freddie turned to hide his tears from Roger, but couldn’t help the loud sniffling to try to keep from dripping and ruining his shirt. He could feel the sobs building in his chest but fought them back. Maybe Freddie was a fucking drama queen. 

“Freddie?”

Roger’s voice had went from hateful to soft in less than a second. Freddie tried to choke down tears. Roger didn’t need to know how fucked up he was. Freddie didn’t even know why he was crying.

Roger’s bare feet made no noise on the floor, but Freddie could still feel the man step closer to him. Roger radiated warmth. And Freddie was overcome with the urge to wrap himself in that warmth. He couldn’t fight it when the blond placed his soft hands on Freddie’s shoulders and gently turned Freddie to face him again. One minute Roger’s delicate fingers were wiping away the tears from Freddie’s face, the next Freddie’s lips were pressed to Roger’s and Freddie was finally, finally, consumed by Roger’s heat.

But it wasn’t the realization that he was kissing Roger that stopped Freddie. It was the realization that Roger was kissing him back. With a gasp, Freddie flung himself back, stumbling into a wall, overwhelmed and needing to put as much space between himself and Roger as possible. 

Freddie could hear Roger’s heavy breathing over his own harsh pants, but didn’t dare look up at the other man. Not after what he had just done. Freddie squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He wondered if Roger would punch him, or maybe just call him a few choice words on his way out the door.

They waited in silence as their breathing slowed again. Freddie tried find some grip on the wall behind him, but it still felt like the world was turning on end. 

“Freddie? Freddie, please look at me.”

It was a voice Freddie had never heard Roger use in his life. It was so gentle, like he was comforting a wounded animal. It was enough to make Freddie open his eyes curiously. 

Roger didn’t look mad. His eyes looked directly into Freddie’s, soft and careful, and his bottom lip was drawn up nervously between his teeth. They measured each other up, trying to figure out how the other was reacting to what had just happened. 

“Freddie, what’s going on?” Roger asked, without accusation. 

“I don’t know,” Freddie finally whispered. “I feel like I’ve been going mad.”

Roger takes a tentative step forward, then another. Freddie lets him. He relaxes a little into the wall behind him. Even if he has no idea what the fuck was going on with himself, Freddie could trust his best friend to help him figure this out. 

“It started a few weeks ago. I started feeling sick every time you brought those girls home. I thought maybe I could just… avoid it. But it kept getting worse and worse. God, Roger, there were some nights I could hear you and I could barely fucking breathe.” The tears were stuck in Freddie’s throat, making it difficult to talk. He had never been this open with Roger. Even with his best friend, Freddie had never let his walls down so completely like this. 

Another step closer to Freddie and Roger was close enough to touch Freddie if he wanted. He took a deep breath before speaking. “Freddie, are you… are you jealous?”

“Yes. Yes, I think maybe so.”

Now, Roger did reach out to Freddie. His hands started at Freddie’s biceps, trailing carefully down Freddie’s arms to his hands. Roger let his fingers curl themselves around Freddie’s, a comforting gesture the two had shared many times before.

“Do you like me, Freddie? Like, do you fancy me?”

It seemed that Roger and Freddie had both reached the same conclusion. Freddie, of course, had always known Roger was attractive. With Roger’s bright blue eyes and gorgeous blond locks, Freddie had never felt guilty about that. But the way his heart seemed to fly into the clouds whenever he watched Roger play or heard him sing? The way Freddie melted when the corners of Roger’s eyes crinkled adorably as he laughed or he squinted at everything more than a few feet away because he refused to wear glasses? The way Freddie couldn’t breathe the day he realized Roger knew how Freddie liked his tea and knew all Freddie’s favorite music, all of Freddie’s hopes and dreams, secrets Freddie had never told anyone else?

“Yes,” Freddie managed to croak out nervously. “Yeah, Rog, I fancy you.”

Roger nodded to himself and looked away from Freddie for a moment. Freddie couldn’t help his heart sinking to the floor. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I feel this way, but I swear it doesn’t change anything. Please don’t hate me, Rog. Please-”

Freddie’s pleas were cut off by Roger’s lips against his own. Freddie could feel Roger’s thumbs rubbing the backs of his, their interlocked hands only just barely keeping their hips from touching. Though the sensation took his breath away, it released the heavy weight pressing on Freddie’s chest at the same time. Roger’s lips were soft, slightly chapped, and working so beautifully against his own. Freddie savoured the feeling.

When they pulled away, there was a smirk on Roger’s face, causing the corner of Freddie’s mouth to tip up.

“I’m just so handsome I’m irresistible, huh?” Roger joked, leaning his body closer and squeezing Freddie’s hands.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Yes, darling. That plus your humble charm and I was a goner.” His cheeks were still stained with tears, his nose unattractively stuffed with snot. But it was Roger standing in front of him. Roger holding his hands tightly, as if he might never let go. Roger accepting him.

Roger bit his lip again. Freddie had to resist the urge to lift his hand and pull the poor lip back out.

“Fred, I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep. I don’t mind trying… whatever this is. Actually, I’d really like to keep going with this. Kiss you some more, maybe see what else there is for us to try. But I don’t… I’ve never been great at relationships. I can stop bringing girls back to the flat, try not to flirt as much when we are out together, but I don’t think I can stop entirely. Or, I guess, that I want to. I just don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

It took Freddie a moment for Roger’s words to sink in. This time it was Freddie’s time to smirk. “Oh, love. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to date you. Not any time soon at least.”

“You don’t?”

“I’ve never exactly done real monogamy either, Rog,” Freddie chuckled lightly. Just another thing the men had in common with each other, something they had bonded over at the start of their friendship. “I’m not asking you to give any of that up for me.”

Roger looked confused, pulling away a bit to focus better on Freddie’s face. “But the girls? You said you were jealous. You said it made you feel awful.”

Suddenly bold, Freddie reached up to stroke Roger’s cheek. He leaned forward to steal another kiss, a spark of excitement rushing through him when it was eagerly returned by Roger. 

“It really doesn’t bother me, darling,” Freddie explained as he pulled away from Roger again. “Not that. I wasn’t jealous because you were with them. I was jealous because you weren’t with me. Maybe that’s stupid. I just wanted you to pay attention to me the way you paid attention to those other girls.”

Roger let out a real laugh at that, seeming to understand Freddie’s reasoning. Roger’s hands pulled away from Freddie’s, but immediately moved to Freddie’s hips, pressing their bodies closer so that they were chest to chest, their hips so close Freddie could cry.

“Please, Fred, I always paid more attention to you than to them. You’re such an attention whore, you wouldn’t have let me get away with ignoring you.”

Freddie grinned but Roger’s lips were pressing insistently on his before he could laugh properly. This time they lost themselves in the kiss. Deeper and deeper, until Freddie thought he might lose himself to Roger’s lips, teeth, and tongue. His hands buried themselves in Roger’s hair. But then Roger’s thumbs dipped beneath Freddie’s shirt, exploring the skin of Freddie’s hips and stomach. Freddie had to pull away from the kiss with a gasp, and Roger immediately attached his mouth to Freddie’s neck, sucking and biting all his most sensitive spots. Freddie took a moment, allowing Roger to pull the moans from him, to turn him into a quivering mess, until he was overwhelmed with the urge to do the same to Roger. 

Wrapping his arms around Roger’s back, Freddie smiled sweetly when Roger looked up at him before spinning them around and pushing Roger up against the wall. It was a bit rough, but Roger didn’t seem to mind, if the high-pitched whine that came from his throat was any indication. It was the sexiest sound Freddie had heard in his whole life.

“Roger,” Freddie panted against the blond’s lips before moving down to explore Roger’s neck, letting his hands run across Roger’s exposed chest.

“Ah, Fred. Yeah, just like that. Feels good.”

Freddie had forgotten how vocal Roger could get, how Roger was often loud enough during sex that Freddie could hear him through two walls and over the music playing from his record player. Hearing it first hand, knowing that Freddie was the reason Roger was whining and panting and pulling at his shirt in desperation went straight to Freddie’s cock. He had started getting hard from the moment Roger kissed him, but now Freddie was aching. He wondered if Roger was too.

His suspicions were confirmed when he finally let their hips touch, the hardness of Roger’s erection unmistakable trapped in those damn black trousers. The feeling caused them both to groan and press into each other forcefully, both desperate for some relief. 

“Fuck! Oh, Fred, please. Please, I need more. You feel so fucking good. I had no fucking idea how good this would feel.” As Roger begged, his hands pulled at Freddie’s shirt, trying his best to tug it off but not able to get it past his arms. Freddie broke away just long enough to strip off his shirt, and connected his mouth to Roger’s again. He could get addicted to the taste of Roger’s lips.

The feeling of Roger’s hands exploring his body was indescribable to Freddie. They left hot trails across Freddie’s chest and stomach, moving around to his back before returning to flick cheekily over a nipple. That was a nice feeling, and something Freddie had never experienced before. He leaned down, far enough for his tongue to reach Roger’s nipple, wanting to see the blond’s reaction. It was clearly positive, as Roger bucked wildly up into Freddie’s hips and his hands flew up to the back of Freddie’s head, anchoring him there.  
Roger was still talking, but Freddie couldn’t tell if he was forming real words anymore. Freddie alternated between licking, sucking, and biting at one nipple, while his hand played and pinched at the other. 

“God, Rog, you’re so bloody sensitive. Do girls ever do this to you?”

It took a moment for Roger to answer, distracted by their hips still moving against each other. “Sometimes,” he panted, “but it’s never felt like this. Fuck, Freddie.”

Freddie stilled his hips, but Roger didn’t want the feeling to stop. Roger’s hands moved down to Freddie’s arse, gripping tightly and now controlling their movements. 

“There are other parts of me that are sensitive, if you wanna try playing with those, too,” Roger suggested with a smirk that was interrupted by a high moan.

That was a good idea. Any excuse to get those infuriating trousers off of Roger. Freddie struggled at first with the fastenings, but quickly was able to open them and push them down Roger’s thighs. 

“Fuck, Rog, are you serious?”

Roger wasn’t wearing pants under his trousers. Freddie’ mouth went dry at the sight.

Without bothering to answer, Roger worked on getting Freddie’s trousers and pants off as well. Helping each other, eventually they stood naked in front of each other.

“Jesus, Fred. You’re so hot,” Roger moaned, one hand moving down to palm at his own dick.

It took Freddie by surprise. “You really think so?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious. 

Roger took no notice, though. “Fuck yes. I may not have known how badly I wanted to fuck you, but I always knew how attractive you are.” He kept stroking himself, peeking through his long eyelashes to see Freddie watching his every move.

“Roger,” Freddie breathed deeply before stepping close to Roger again, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

A genuine smile flashed across Roger’s face, but was replaced with a look of ecstasy when Freddie pulled Roger’s hand away and replaced it with his own. Freddie had never touched another man’s cock before, and he couldn’t believe how fucking turned on he was from the heavy weight of Roger in his hand. Freddie was close to just getting down on his knees for Roger, to see if it felt as good to have his mouth on Roger as his hand. To see how Roger tasted. 

But Roger had other plans. His hands were on Freddie’s ass again, pulling them together in the same movement as before, but this time there were no clothes separating them. They both gasped at the sensation, completely overwhelmed, before grasping each other tightly and kissing again. Their hips bucked wildly against each other now, not caring about it being too dry, not caring that their kiss was all teeth.

Freddie moved his hand so that it wrapped around both of them, stroking lightly at first but more firmly as Roger whined and begged against him. It was like nothing Freddie had ever felt before. The white hot burning behind his navel was already building, so close to coming just from finally having Roger against him. He thought Roger was close too, judging from his voice going impossibly higher in pitch. 

Roger’s fingers pressed into Freddie’s arse in a tight grip, unwilling to let go. But when one of his fingers slipped between Freddie’s cheeks and brushed against his hole, Freddie was gone.

He buried his face in Roger’s neck, biting the flesh he found there and hoping he wouldn’t hurt the blond. Freddie’s orgasm hit him like a train, a sudden intensity that moved through his entire body. His hips never stopped moving against Roger’s, and Freddie looked up just in time to see Roger throw his head back with a loud cry and come over Freddie’s hand. 

They were slow to return to reality. Both weak in the knees and smiling goofily at each other, they kissed lazily until Freddie found the energy to grab one of the dry napkins left on the table and get the most of the come off of their bodies, then dragged them over to collapse on the couch.

“Fuck, darling, I think that might’ve been the best orgasm of my life,” Freddie groaned, readjusting Roger’s weight on top of him so that Roger’s head tucked beneath his chin and Roger’s knee fitted between Freddie’s legs.

Roger readily nodded in agreement. “If I had known how fucking good that felt, I would’ve kissed you ages ago.”

Freddie chuckled but stayed silent, enjoying the moment.

“We did make quite a mess, dear. We should clean up,” Freddie said quietly, rubbing lightly at Roger’s bare waist, thinking of both their sweaty, poorly cleaned bodies and the mess left on the table. Roger shushed him.

“Later. I want to hold you a bit longer.”

And who was Freddie to deny him?

They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, blissed out and dreaming of everything they could try next.


	2. Roger/Brian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim leaves Smile. Roger and Brian are left to figure out what the hell to do without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how awesome the reaction to the first chapter was! I'm so excited to post this second chapter. This ended up much longer than planned, almost twice as long as the first chapter. I hope no one minds :)

Roger couldn’t breathe as he watched Tim leave Brian’s flat. Their best friend and bandmate was leaving them, apparently having lost all faith in Smile’s talent and success. The worst part? There hadn’t been a bit of hesitation in Tim’s voice. He hadn’t looked back as he walked out of the door and out of Roger and Brian’s lives. 

Neither Roger nor Brian had had any idea what was in store for them as they met at Brian’s flat for a band meeting. It had been Tim who called it, saying he needed to talk to them about something important. And of all things, it was about Humpy Bong. 

How could Humpy Bong be more important than Smile?

It wasn’t fair. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears the three of them had put into the band… all for nothing. Tim just didn’t care. He didn’t care that he was abandoning the band, the music. Abandoning them. Roger wouldn’t admit it, but the pain of their best friend betraying them was worse than the fact that Tim left the band. 

The flat was silent as Roger and Brian processed what had just happened. They didn’t look at each other. But they were no doubt wondering the same thing. What the hell were they supposed to do now? 

“Fuck,” Roger muttered, fighting the urge to stand up and wreck Brian’s living room. Even through the pain and anger, Roger knew Brian didn’t deserve that.

Brian stayed silent, but nodded in agreement with Roger. 

Roger buried his face into his hands, pressing his fingers into his eyes until he saw stars. He couldn’t get Tim’s face as he delivered the news, impassive and seemingly without a bit of care for the two men in front of him, out of his head.

Roger suddenly had the urge to deal with the situation the same way he did any time life got hard and he didn’t want to deal with the problem. 

Roger wanted to get shitfaced.

With little elegance, clambered up from his spot on the floor (where he had been forced to sit when Tim took the only other spot on Brian’s only couch) and dusted off the seat of his pants. Out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw Brian look up at him curiously. Roger turned around to face him with a grin he didn’t even attempt to make look real.

“Well, I’m headed to the pub. You comin’?”

Brian looked up at him in confusion before seeming to realize what Roger was doing. Brian had been dealing with Roger for so long, it didn’t seem to surprise him for a second that Roger’s first reaction was to go to a pub. And yet he still nodded to the blond.

“Yeah, I’ll tag along. Could definitely use a fucking drink after that,” Brian said, ruffling a hand through his messy hair, already starting to curl despite Brian constantly attempting to straighten it.

Brian stood up next to Roger and they both moved to put on their jackets and shoes before leaving, only pausing for Brian to turn back and lock the door behind them. It was a chilly night, but not freezing. Roger wasted no second pulling out his pack of cigarettes and sliding one carefully out of the box with his teeth while his free hand fished around in his pockets for his lighter.

Roger flashed a guilty glance at Brian before lighting up, knowing how much his friend hated his smoking habit, but not stopping himself from groaning at the first inhale of smoke. Brian sent him a tiny smile, not seeming to mind this time, or at the very least, understanding how badly Roger needed a cigarette after such a shit show. Roger tried his best to keep the smoke away from Brian, walking down wind and blowing smoke away from the man. It seemed like the least he could do. 

The pub they frequented was a fair distance from Brian’s flat. There was one a bit closer, but no one in their friend group liked the atmosphere. The first and only time Roger had taken Freddie, the man had deemed it as “boring and generic”, something Freddie tried to avoid like an illness. Roger didn’t mind the walk though, especially considering their location in London. It could’ve been a much farther walk, even if it did seem much longer on the way back once properly drunk.

This walk was quiet, neither man wanting to talk about what had happened just yet, and neither being able to think of another topic long enough to start a conversation. Roger finished his first cigarette, dropped it, and promptly lit another. This time he avoided Brian’s eye, which seemed a bit odd to Roger. He didn’t normally feel this guilty smoking around Brian.

It took three and a half cigarettes to reach the pub, and the other half of the fourth to get their drinks and find a spot to sit. They barely took the time to say cheers and clink the glasses of the shots they had splurged on before downing the alcohol quickly. Brian took one shot and Roger took two, eyeing Brian’s second shot he was apparently saving for later before tucking into their pints. It was still more than Brian usually preferred drinking, something Roger liked to tease him about for no real good reason, but Roger tried to keep himself from worrying about the other man. Not when they had so much else to worry about.

Roger knew the silence couldn’t last forever, not with Brian. It had taken the time for Roger to finish his pint and convince Brian to let him have his other shot, and for Brian to sigh and stand to buy their next round. He returned with more beer but, sadly, no more shots (that’s alright, Roger could sneak an extra drink or two when it was his turn to buy a round) and turn to Roger with worry etched on his face.

“So, what are we going to do?”

The words were soft, could barely be heard over the din of the pub. Roger wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard them and just drink. But he couldn’t. Not with Brian. Not when Brian was looking at Roger like he was the last good thing left in Brian’s life. Roger felt rage simmering through him again, not just thinking about Tim’s betrayal, but thinking about how Tim could do this to Brian. Brian was so innocent and so good. This was the man who refused to even kill spiders and who hated eating meat and wanted to do everything in his power to save the Earth. Roger was nothing, but how could Tim possibly do this to Brian without even thinking?

“I don’t know, Bri,” he whispered back, still hoping Brian might drop the conversation at that.

No chance, though. “No lead singer. No bass.”

“No band,” Roger finished.

Brian sighed again. “We could… we could hold auditions. Like Tim and I did for you.”

Roger felt weak and stupid for flinching at the mention of Tim’s name. “What’s the bloody point? We suck. We’re always going to suck. We might as well quit while we’re ahead.” Playing Royal Albert Hall had been pretty great for them. But maybe that was the best they were going to get. Especially with only drums and guitar.

“Don’t say that, Rog. There’s still hope.” There was a pause. “What about Freddie? He sings. He could be our lead. Maybe he would play bass for us too?”

Admittedly, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Freddie was a singer, and he was very passionate when it came to music. And he meshed quite nicely with both Roger and Brian during their hang outs and informal jam sessions. It made sense that they could mesh as a proper band. 

But Freddie was Roger’s roommate. Roger’s roommate whom he had casual sex with on an almost weekly basis now. He didn’t want to mess that up, especially with Brian in the mix. With all three of them passionate, stubborn, and hot-headed (even if Brian would deny being stubborn), Roger worried it might be too much for him and Freddie to handle. As friends, as roommates, as whatever else they had become. Or maybe...

Or maybe Roger was worried that Freddie was too much like himself and Brian. He couldn’t deny that his time with Freddie had seemed to awaken a side of Roger he had never known existed before. Suddenly, every time Roger caught himself staring at Brian, the way his long, slender fingers moved gracefully over his guitar strings, the way his hair devolved into a curly mess by morning when Roger crashed at Brian’s place, every time he caught himself staring at the man when he stripped off his sweaty shirt after a gig, Roger had to wonder if he wasn’t just looking at the man in appreciation and mutual respect. What if having Freddie and Brian in the band together made Roger start to want things from Brian he couldn’t have. That he already got from Freddie and shouldn’t need from his other best friend on top of it?

Roger couldn’t help scoffing a bit at his own thoughts, earning an eyebrow raise from Brian. Roger stared a little too long into Brian’s eyes, but tried to dismiss the silent question with a shake of his head. If he couldn’t admit he already wanted those things from Brian by now, he probably never would. The idea hurt too much to consider. The clearly straight man would never want him back. Roger should just get over himself and agree to asking Freddie to join the band, but the idea still scared him.

“Freddie? He sings like an orgasming sheep. Besides, I think he’s still fucking around with those other guys he calls a band. What are they called? Sour Milk or something?” Roger felt a little bad. Freddie’s voice was a little rough, but it was clear the man had talent. With a bit of vocal training, Freddie could certainly become one of the most talented musicians Roger had ever seen. Especially with the way he played piano. 

Brian shrugged. “Better than nothing. It still might be worth mentioning it to him.”

Roger scoffed again and rolled his eyes. He was ready for this conversation to be over. He drained the last of the beer from his glass and stood. Perhaps a little too quickly. Roger stumbled into the table a little, almost causing Brian’s still half full glass to tip into his lap, but Roger ignored it. 

Walking to the opposite end of the bar, as far out of Brian’s line of sight as Roger could get, and ordered another round of beer plus a couple extra drinks for himself. He knew he shouldn’t be spending so much money, especially now that he wouldn’t be getting extra spending money from gigs anytime soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The whiskey went down faster than whiskey should ever be consumed. It burned and Roger had to fight not to choke. Another shot was definitely not the best idea and a swallow from his pint glass did nothing to soothe his aching throat. This was all quite fast, even for someone like Roger, but he wanted to drink as much as he could without Brian finding out. The only downside to inviting Brian along was that Brian would try to prevent Roger from getting absolutely plastered like he wanted. 

Leaving the empties on the bar, Roger carried the fresh pints back to Brian. He swayed slightly on the way, and had a little trouble trying to set the glasses down and slide back into his seat at the same time. Roger realized that he had already had twice as much to drink as Brian, and most of it had been much harder than the cheap lager Brian was focusing on sipping away at.

“Alright?” Brian asked him, probably noticing his stumbling.

“Fine,” he answered. “Just don’t want to be thinking about that shit right now.”

Brian squinted slightly in suspicion, but finally dismissed Roger with a nod. Whether he accepted the answer as truth or just accepted that Roger was inevitably going to be a bit grumpy tonight, Roger was thankful. 

They forced some light conversation, avoiding the topics like Tim and Freddie, and focusin g on thing like Brian’s studies and what the next Beatles album would be like. Roger let himself be lost in Brian’s company. It was so easy when they were like this. Roger almost felt like he didn’t need any more alcohol to make it through the rest of the night. Almost.

Roger patiently waited for Brian to finish his beer this time, letting the buzz get stronger and stronger until his head was fuzzy and he was giggling like a maniac next to Brian at some stupid story the man was telling about a crazy professor at his university. Roger felt less self conscious when his knee brushed against Brian’s under the table. He felt warm. At Brian’s offer to buy “one last round”, Roger nodded vigorously and put on an innocent face as Brian stood again.

The moment Brian’s back was turned, Roger spun around, locating the group of younger men, possibly uni students, a table over and leaned towards them. He pulled the last couple pounds from his wallet and held them out to the men like an offering as he broke into their conversation.

“Sorry, lads, just wondering if I could steal a swig of that before my friend gets back,” Roger smiled as charmingly as he could, gesturing to the half-full bottle of booze sitting in the middle of the table. “He says I drink too much.”

The strangers laughed, mumbling to each other in a way that made it clear they were not saying nice things about Roger, but poured him a generous glass and exchanged it for the notes. Glancing back to make sure Brian was still distracted at the bar, Roger downed the glass in two gulps, earning a mocking cheer from the table. He quickly moved back to his own table, clearing his throat several times so that he could thank Brian as he returned without his voice being too scratchy.

They got halfway through their drinks, chatting about anything and everything they could think of that had nothing to do with certain taboo topics, before Brian suggested going home.

“Buzzkill,” Roger said, sticking his tongue out. They couldn’t have been there for more than an hour, two at the most. At least he had been able to get properly drunk before Brian dragged him out of the pub.

“Are you really enjoying yourself right now?” Brian asked him.

Roger tried not to feel hurt at Brian’s tone, implying that the other man was not having a good time with Roger. He knew drinking wasn’t as much Brian’s scene as it was Roger’s, but Roger had thought just spending time with him would at least be a little entertaining for Brian.

“I was,” Roger muttered, tapping his knuckles on the table in irritation.

“Fine, we can stay if you want. But I’m done buying.”

Shit. Roger had just given the last of his money to strangers. Admittedly, it hadn’t been much, probably only enough for another round. But now Roger was wishing he had planned everything out better.

“Might as well just go home, then. I spent the rest of my cash on that last round. I didn’t know I was coming tonight so I didn’t bring much.” Roger knew the words were slurring. He did his best to enunciate as he spoke but seemed to be failing miserably. How much had he had again? “Unless you wanna spot me a bit of money?”

“Hell no. I’m not funding your shitty habits. Besides, you still owe me from the pub after that last gig we did,” Brian snapped.

That was a bit harsh. Roger wondered if the alcohol mixed with the stress of the night was loosening Brian’s tongue. If that was what Brian really thought of Roger. A complete mess who did nothing but get wasted and borrow money from his friends without paying them back. An utter piece of shit.

Nevertheless, Roger knew that meant it was time to head home. He hadn’t had a cigarette since they had arrived and desperately craved one. Roger stood and grabbed for his cigarettes, avoiding Brian’s eyes.

Brian rolled his eyes at the sight of the little red box, but stood with Roger and started making his way out of the pub, nodding politely at the bartender as he passed. Roger was a bit slower in following him, trying his best to avoid stumbling into tables and other people, but not entirely succeeding in his endeavor. Until wasn’t until Brian had reached the door that he looked back and noticed Roger’s problem.

Roger felt Brian’s long fingers wrap around his arm and wished he could take comfort in his warmth. But right now Roger was too hot. Standing up and moving around made the alcohol hit Roger hard. He felt Brian tug him through the pub and out the door. 

Both of them took a deep breath when the fresh air hit them.

“Jesus, Roger, I knew you snuck something at the bar, but how much did you have?” Brian rounded on him as soon as they were alone. His hands were still on Roger’s arms, keeping him steady, but Roger wanted to pull away from Brian’s harsh voice.

“Fuck off, Brian. You’re not my mum,” Roger tugged uselessly away from Brian’s grasp, yelping a bit as Brian dug his fingertips into his arms to strengthen his grip.

“No, I’m not your mum. I’m just your friend who cares about you and doesn’t want to watch you try to destroy yourself,” Brian insisted, attempting to drag them forward, but not getting far with Roger refusing to take a step.

“Don’t be so bloody dramatic. I got drunk. Big fucking deal. And don’t fucking act like you’re not affected. You’re just as pissed at Tim as I am.” Roger stuttered over Tim’s name. Combined with his slurred speech getting worse, Roger wasn’t sure if Brian even understood the last sentence.

Brian made a clucking sound with his tongue, like a disappointed mother hen. “I am certainly not happy with the situation, but I’m not the one trying to drink myself blind.”

Roger rolled his eyes again. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Bri. I don’t fucking need you.” The words felt like bile on his tongue, and they were also completely untrue. Even if Roger thought he could survive a minute without Brian in his life, there was no way he would be able to get home on his own. His and Freddie’s flat was quite a bit farther away, and even making it to Brian’s apartment was going to be a struggle. 

Letting the argument drop for a bit, Brian obediently readjusted his grip on Roger so they could walk together with Roger leaning some of his weight into Brian. Any other time, Roger would be thrilled to have so much of his body pressed against Brian, letting the taller man’s body heat shield him from the chill. But he still felt overheated, and he felt raw from dealing with so many emotions in such a short span of time.

The walk was awful. Roger knew he was being a nuisance, but couldn’t seem to help himself from almost falling on his face chasing a little grey cat into someone’s hedges or stopping to plop down on the curb for a moment to catch his breath until Brian insistently pulled him back up. Once he stopped to look up, not for the first time wishing he could see the stars through the thick air and light pollution that came with living in London. He settled for looking at Brian. Brian was definitely the most beautiful star of them all. 

It was at that point Roger started crying. The moment he felt the tears dripping down his cheeks, he frantically pawed at his face, trying to stop them. But he couldn’t help but let out a few sobs first, especially when the arm around Roger’s back tightened and Brian’s thumb rubbed soothingly on Roger’s shoulder. Roger finally calmed himself down and forced them to start walking again before Brian asked him to do something awful like talk about his feelings.

It was nice though. Brian’s thumb continued the calming action, seeming to have forgiven Roger for the moment. And Roger had to fuck it up by doubling over and vomiting into the gutter. 

“Oh, Rog. Really, how much did you sneak when I wasn’t looking? We weren’t even there that long,” Brian whispered, not even trying to get mad this time, just continuing to rub at Roger’s back and attempting to hold back his hair from the worst of the sick. 

They eventually made it back to Brian’s, both stumbling and feeling awful, Roger’s mouth tasting of vomit. All he wanted was another drink. Until he felt completely numb and couldn’t feel a single thing. Maybe Brian’s accusations earlier weren’t that far off. 

“Go wash out your mouth, Rog, and drink some water,” Brian told him, ushering him towards the bathroom.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Roger mumbled half heartedly, the dark, masochistic part of him wanting to bring back the heat from their argument earlier.

They managed to get Roger cleaned up a bit and over to the couch to sit. But all that did was make Roger remember who had been the last to sit in that exact spot, and what Tim had done. 

“Alright, it’s time for bed, then. You’re sleeping out here, ‘cos I’m not having you throw up in my bed, asshole. Don’t cry to me tomorrow about your hangover being worse from sleeping on the couch, it’s your own bloody fault for not having an ounce of self control,” Brian ranted as he pulled a rarely used spare blanket from a closet. The rant didn’t even seem to be pointed at Roger, but the fact that it was about him brought tears to Roger’s eyes again. He blinked rapidly to clear them, internally cursing himself. 

“Why the hell are you bitching at me again. I told you to fuck off,” Roger managed to grunt out from under the blanket thrown at him a bit too forcefully.

“And where would you be without me, huh, Roger? Flat on your face outside the pub? In some random slut’s bed after making goo goo eyes at her even knowing she doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together?” Brian’s hands roamed frustratedly through his hair, his curls now loose and wild, seemingly reflecting the man’s mood. “You wouldn’t even be in the fucking band without me. I was the one who told Tim we should take you on. You should be bloody thanking me,”

That was enough for Roger to shoot off the couch. It was enough for Roger to grab the nearest book resting on the side table and pitch it at Brian, making a satisfying thwack against Brian’s chest and a less satisfying pained grunt from the man. It was enough for him to start stomping towards the door, ready to get the fuck out of that place because it was all too much and he couldn’t handle Brian saying shit like that to him. 

“Thanking you? Don’t be so fucking arrogant, prick. I don’t fucking need you. I didn’t need Tim, I sure as fuck don’t need you and I’m going to fucking leave before you leave me too, just like everyone always fucking does.”

Roger slammed the door behind him as he left, the chilly air hitting his flushed skin like a knife but doing nothing to cool him down. He didn’t stop when he heard the door fling back open behind him. He didn’t stop when he heard a voice calling out. He didn’t stop when long fingers curled around his arm yet again. It was only when Brian physically tugged him back and shoved him against the side of the building with all his strength that Roger looked up at Brian.

Brian was panting, his face flushed almost as much as Roger’s. His fingers gripped tightly enough there would most likely be bruises on Roger’s skin the next day, and it felt like Brian was shaking. But Brian didn’t speak. Maybe he couldn’t speak.

“What, Brian? What could you possibly want right now?” Roger gritted out between his teeth. He didn’t want to feel Brian this close to him. Not right now.

“Come back inside,” Brian finally said. “It’s cold out here.”

“No bloody way.”

“You’re still drunk,” Brian reasoned.

“Thanks. You’ve already made that perfectly clear this evening,” Roger scoffed. 

Brian sighed. “You can’t just say something like that and walk away.”

“Like what?”

Now Brian’s thumbs were rubbing at his shoulders again. Roger hissed as he rubbed over where his fingers had been digging painfully into his skin, but Brian didn’t stop. “I’m not the one leaving, Roger. I’m not going to leave you. I would never do that to you.”

Suddenly, all the fight fled Roger’s body. All he wanted was to curl up in a ball and cry. He wished Brian would stop touching him. He wished Brian would never stop touching him. Roger let his head fall back and hit the hard wall behind him.

“You can’t say that,” Roger whispered.

“Why not?”

Roger shook his head. “You can’t know that. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Please, Bri. I can’t fucking bear the thought of you leaving me too.”

“Then don’t,” Brian said, moving somehow closer to Roger. “I won’t leave. Never. Not until you actually want me gone.”

A tear ran down Roger’s cheek, quickly wiped away by one of Brian’s fingers. Roger shivered.

“Come back inside,” Brian said.

This time Roger nodded. He silently followed Brian inside, not saying a word when Brian led him through the flat and into his bedroom. 

“Come on, dummy. Let’s go to bed.”

Then Brian was taking off his shoes and pants, helping Roger out of his own. After a second’s thought, Roger requested help stripping off his shirt as well. They had seen each other like this a hundred times, but never once had Roger felt so naked.

Roger let himself be pulled under the covers. But he didn’t want to sleep just yet.

“Bri?”

“Yeah, Rog?” Brian was spooned up behind Roger, not quite pressing his chest to Roger’s back, but letting one arm drape gently over Roger’s stomach, over the blankets.

“I love you.”

There was silence for a moment, but Brian’s voice was steady as he answered. “I love you too, mate.”

It wasn’t what Roger wanted to hear. “No. No, I mean… I mean I like you.”

Another pause as Brian tried to figure out what the blond meant. “Well, that’s probably a good thing. We are friends after all. I like you too.”

That was worse. Roger sighed in frustration, refusing to cry for a third time that night.

“Roger?”

He took another moment to think, his alcohol-addled brain desperately searching for the right words.

“Brian, I… I mean I like you like you.” Yes, good job drunk Roger. Great vocabulary. Doing a fantastic job of impressing Brian with your brain capacity.

Roger could feel the arm around his disappear briefly to run itself through Brian’s hair again. He shouldn’t have felt as relieved as he did when the arm settled back in place around him. “What do you mean?”

Roger could’ve bashed his head into the wall at that moment.

“I mean you are one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. You are so smart and funny and I’ve never seen anyone who can play guitar like you. And I didn’t even notice for the longest time how much that I like you, and now that I have it just burns. I fucking hate it because I know you could never like me back. And it’s why tonight was so awful, because I couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking painful it would be if you left me.”

Then, ever so gently, Brian maneuvered Roger into flipping over so they were facing each other. Roger refused to look at him, hating how vulnerable he felt with Brian staring at him, judging him, maybe just waiting to kick Roger out of his bed for his confession. 

“What makes you think I couldn’t like you back?” Brian asked so softly Roger thought he might’ve imagined it.

Roger couldn’t believe Brian still didn’t get it. He bit his lip hard, trying to clear his head enough to try explaining it to Brian one last time. “Brian, I mean I have a bloody crush on you. And that means you don’t like me back because you’re straight.”

There was a longer pause. The longest pause of Roger’s life. And just when he thought he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, Roger felt longer fingers wrap around his chin and force him to look Brian in the eye.

“I’m not straight, Roger. And I like you too. I have a crush on you, and I have since the day I met you.”

No way had Roger heard that correctly. He could feel his heart hammering, having found its way up somewhere into Roger’s throat. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m not straight,” Brian dutifully repeated.

“No, the other part.”

Brian chuckled, the hand on Roger’s chin moving up to mess with Roger’s hair. Roger’s eyes fluttered a bit at the sensation, but he managed to keep them open as Brian spoke again. “I said I have a bloody crush on you, you idiot.”

It didn’t compute in Roger’s brain what was happening as Brian slowly moved forward until their lips were almost brushing, giving Roger plenty of time to pull away. But Roger didn’t and Brian kissed him. 

If Roger hadn’t already been drunk, he knew he would’ve been just from Brian’s lips. Maybe he had drunk himself into a coma and this was just some wonderful dream. And then Brian was pulling away again and Roger had to fight back a whine.

“I never said anything, I mean, besides for the obvious reason that I didn’t want my ass beaten, because I thought you only liked girls. And then once I figured out you liked guys, I thought you were with Freddie,” Brian said, eyes still on Roger’s lips.

The name sent a chill through Roger. “Freddie?”

“Yeah, after you guys started sleeping together.”

Roger’s tongue felt heavy. “You… you know that Freddie and I…? Did he… did he tell you?”

Brian shook his head slightly. “No, it just seemed obvious to me. But I think only because I know you so well. I would see hickeys on your neck on nights I knew you didn’t take girls home.” Brian paused for a moment. “You do still like Freddie, though, then?”

“Yeah,” Roger confirmed. “But I like you too. It’s all sort of… rather complicated.”

Brian looked at him for a long moment. His hand which had stilled during the conversation started moving again and somehow Roger could breathe easier.

“Maybe not so complicated,” Brian whispered. Then he moved closer, tucking Roger’s head beneath his chin and cuddling up to him, still methodically petting at Roger’s hair in a way so soothing Roger couldn’t quite help letting his eyes droop shut. 

Though he wanted to talk to Brian more, wanted to ask him what he meant and why they fought so much if they liked each other so much and how he could possibly promise that he would never leave him, Roger could feel himself falling asleep. Between the alcohol, Brian’s gentle caresses, and the soothing heartbeat under his ear, Roger fell asleep quickly.

“I love you too, Roger,” Brian whispered to Roger in a dream.

Roger slept surprisingly soundly, and only wake to the feeling of having his shoulder shaken gently. His headache was something awful, but Roger had had worse in the past. He took a moment to make sure he wasn’t anywhere near throwing up before slowly opening his eyes to see who was trying to wake him.

The glorious sight of a sleep-ruffled Brian still in his half-unbuttoned shirt and his briefs greeted him. Even better, on the nightstand next to Brian were two mugs of coffee, full and dark and emitting tiny curls of steam in the morning air. 

Never had Roger wanted to kiss Brian as much as he did in that moment.

Instead he reached greedily for the coffee, knowing his mouth probably tasted awful anyway and wanting to head off as much of the hangover as possible. Brian chuckled before grabbing his own mug and crawling over Roger to sit next to him with his back against the headboard.

“Do you remember last night?”

Of course Brian would worry about Roger being so drunk he would forget confessing his feelings for the other. It made Roger feel a bit sick.

“Yes, I remember. And before you ask, yes. I meant every word. Even if I’m embarrassed about it now.”

Brian made a cute humming noise before reaching out to touch Roger’s hand grasping his mug. Roger got the hint and switched hands, allowing Brian to grab his hand and lace their fingers together. Roger tried not to think about how fast it made his heart race.

“Even the part about Freddie?”

Roger choked a bit on his coffee at the question. But it was too late to try hiding anything from Brian now. 

“Yeah,” Roger told his mug of coffee, before taking another steadying drink. “I like Freddie a lot. I mean, I love both of you so much. You’re both so important in my life. And I think I like him as much as I like you.”

Brian hummed again.

“Sorry, I told you it was complicated. I can’t make anything easy, can I?” Roger tried to make a joke, but couldn’t quite get past how much he hated himself for not being normal. For not being able to just have a nice, normal relationship with Freddie in their shared flat, or to be able to take Brian’s confession and ask him to be with him and only him. But Roger knew he wouldn’t be able to keep a promise like that. 

“No, it’s alright, actually. I already knew you and Freddie were close. I’m really…” Brian tucked his mug carefully between his legs and lifting their joined hands into his lap so that he could play with Roger’s fingers with his free hand. “I’m okay with sharing. If that makes sense. Especially with Freddie.”

“Oh,” was the only answer Roger could think of.

“So, do you think Freddie would mind…?”

Roger shook his head. “No. Freddie’s never really cared about me being with other people. Not after he found out he could have me too. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all.” Roger considered for a moment. “Honestly, he would probably think it was hot.”

Brian laughed, causing Roger to laugh with him. It felt so good after all the anxiety and stress and worry and anger to just laugh with Brian again.

When Brian stopped laughing he turned to Roger again. “So can we?”

“Can we what?”

Brian reached over Roger to set his empty coffee mug back on the nightstand, and smirked at Roger. “Can we have sex?”

Roger flushed bright red, not ready to hear those words from Brian. “What, right now?” Roger squeaked.

“Yes, right now,” Brian insisted, daringly moving the hand not holding Roger’s to trace around the waistband of Roger’s pants. Roger gasped, quickly putting his own mug down before spilling it. “You have no idea how bloody long I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you, Roger.”

And holy shit, if the feeling of Brian touching his bare skin wasn’t enough to start getting Roger hard, Brian’s words were. 

“Can’t say no to that.” Roger managed to smile cheekily at Brian for a moment, but moaned when Brian let go of his hand and shifted so that he could continue touching Roger’s stomach with one hand and touch the top of Roger’s thigh with the other.

With that, Brian’s mouth was on his. It was a bloody fantastic feeling, and Roger didn’t bother trying to muffle the whining little moans escaping from him. It was even better when Roger reached up to bury his hands in Brian’s messy hair, tugging slightly and swallowing Brian’s groan. 

Roger started to complain when Brian moved away, but gasped when Brian moved down to kiss Roger’s neck. Brian didn’t linger, continuing to move down. Down Roger’s collarbone, his chest, down his stomach, stopping only when he reached Roger’s briefs. 

“Holy fuck, Bri.” Roger let out a long moan when he felt Brian’s fingers touching him through his pants. Brian seemed to know just where and how to touch him. Pressing slightly, rubbing without chafing, and cupping him just right so that Roger could hump the air trying to get just a little more friction. He heard Brian laugh at him and turned to say something to the man before stopping with his jaw dropped open. Because Brian looked ready to devour him. His pupils were dilated almost entirely, his mouth hung open, and his dick was straining through his tight briefs jutting out between the loose flaps of Brian’s shirt. The sight took Roger’s breath away.

“Clothes. Off. Now. Please, Bri. Fuck.”

Not wasting a moment, Brian quickly pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his pants to the ground, not attempting and yet still succeeding to look sexy in his actions. Roger was distracted for a moment by Brian’s dick, long and slender, just like the rest of him. His attention was quickly regained as Brian’s fingers hooked into his waistband. Brian waited just long enough for Roger to nod (plead, moan, beg) his permission before stripping the pants from him and tossing them on the floor. 

“I can’t wait any longer, Roger. I can’t tell you how often I dreamed about this. How often I jerked off thinking about seeing you, touching you, fucking you. God, Roger, please. Can I suck you off?”

Roger couldn’t believe the words were coming from the sweet, innocent Brian he knew. Freddie liked to tease Roger for being vocal and talkative during sex, but Jesus, Brian was about to make Roger come without even touching him.

“Yes, please, Brian. Anything. Just touch me, please. God, Bri-” Roger’s pleas were cut off by his own moans. The feeling of Brian’s hot mouth wrapped around his cock was too much.

And the sight of him. Brian’s hair was a complete mess, but it framed his perfect face, his dark eyes with only the faintest trace of hazel still clinging to the edges, and his lips. Fuck, his lips wrapped around Roger was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen. Roger closed his eyes, already feeling his orgasm building. His headache was gone, the soreness in his body from last night. Roger felt nothing but Brian.

Roger hadn’t shut up once, but his words and his begging for more seemed to encourage Brian. Roger gasped when Brian started moaning, the vibrations hitting him just right, and doing nothing to help Roger fight off his orgasm. He didn’t want it to be over. He never wanted this feeling to end.

When the vibrations continued, Roger curiously looked down, only to see that Brian was furiously working his fist over his own cock while he bobbed up and down on Roger’s. It was too much.

“Fuck, fuck Bri. I’m close. I’m gonna come. Fuck. Please, Bri. You feel so fucking perfect. Oh god.”

Roger tugged at Brian’s hair, trying to give Brian enough warning to pull off. Instead, Brian took him deeper, deep enough his nose pressed into the light hair at the base of Roger’s cock. And with that Roger was coming, his toes curling and his fingers pulling a bit too hard at Brian’s hair. Brian’s mouth tightened around him as he swallowed, and Roger let out a strangled gasp, choking himself on his own moans. 

After a moment, Roger realized Brian’s hand was still working over himself, enticing little groans falling from Brian’s lips with each stroke. Roger was quick to pull Brian up and reach out to push Brian’s hand out of the way, replacing it with his own. The moan that came from Brian was so hot Roger couldn’t help but dart forward and capture his lips again. The taste of his own come on Brian’s tongue made his dick twitch, but he focused on Brian.

“Rog, please.”

Roger’s free hand slid down to Brian’s ass, squeezing enough to make Brian emit a surprised yelp and pulling him as close as Roger could get him. The little groans continued until the moment Brian tumbled over the edge, then Brian went silent, his eyes shut tight and his mouth wide open in ecstasy as he came all over Roger’s chest. Roger kept pumping him slowly until Brian weakly batted his hand away and moved forward to kiss him again.

“Oh my god. That was fucking amazing,” Roger said in awe.

Brian settled in to lie next to him, still panting, and grabbed Roger’s hand in his own again. 

“Fucking perfect,” Brian answered.

The only thing close enough to reach without having to let go of Brian’s hand was the button up shirt. Roger shrugged and started wiping himself off, only pausing to chuckle at Brian’s indignant “Hey!” when he noticed what Roger was doing.

“You’re the one who came on me. Guess you could’ve cleaned me up if you wanted.” Just the mental image of Brian licking his own come off of Roger’s stomach had Roger eagerly awaiting the next time.

“You’re doing my bloody laundry, then,” Brian mumbled out.

Unfazed, Roger merely lifted their joined hands and kissed Brian’s knuckles, earning a goofy grin.

“I’ll talk to Freddie about singing with us,” Roger said suddenly. “And this, I guess,” he added, lifting their hands again.

“Alright, that sounds good.”

Roger turned to kiss Brian once more. It all seemed too good to be true. But for once Roger just let himself enjoy it all and not worry about what would come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope everyone likes this update! It was super fun writing for Maylor. 
> 
> Please come visit my tumblr at unicornsapplesandstuff.tumblr.com! Hit me up with headcanons, questions, or just to chat! I'm in a lot of fandoms, but I've been really looking for more people to talk about Queen and BoRhap with.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Brian/John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has finally joined the band, and fits in quite easily. But while trying to decide which songs to put on their demo, Brian realizes a few things about their newest band member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I would like to apologize for this chapter taking so long. I was planning on having it posted last week, but life stuff got in the way. But I'm finally getting the Breaky goodness out to all of you beautiful people!
> 
> This chapter fast-forwards a bit, before they started recording their first album. I did some research for this chapter, trying to keep it accurate with which songs I mention (though if I remember correctly, they actually ended up recording their demo for free in exchange for testing out new sound equipment?)
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone likes this chapter!

Things got better for Brian and Roger after Freddie agreed to join them as their lead singer. He did, however, refuse to learn how to play the bass, leading them on an exhausting search for a bassist who could put up with their bullshit and still be able to play well. Brian could remember the many bassists they had tried out, the ones who could barely play a handful of chords, the one who was more arrogant than Brian, Freddie, and Roger combined, and, of course, the one who Roger almost came to blows with when the stranger had called Freddie a few choice words the first time Freddie showed up to practice in women’s clothing and eyeliner.

Things got much better after they found John. The man had just clicked with them all, seeming quite unobtrusive to their own loud, passionate personas with his quiet demeanor. John hadn’t talked much when they first met him, but the moment they started playing together, the three of them silently agreed that John was perfect for them. He obviously had the talent, able to easily keep up with the new music during their first practice sessions, and even occasionally adding his own cool riffs that complemented the other instruments on the song nicely. 

With John’s help, and now officially known as Queen, the band worked their asses off until they gained some popularity. They continued writing songs, playing as many gigs as they could at local pubs and universities. Then they were playing at bigger and more popular venues and even gained a small following of dedicated fans. It was still quite different from what Brian and Roger had had with Smile, but suddenly their dream of success seemed much closer than ever before.

Freddie was the one who decided that they should all move in together. He had found a nicer, yet surprisingly cheap four bedroom flat. The only drawback was the location of the flat. It wasn’t in the greatest part of the city and there was a fair bit of distance between it and anywhere any of them went on a regular basis. But it turned out not to be a problem. None of them minded walking the long distances when necessary, and everyone except Freddie had their own car. 

Brian had his doubts about the living situation at first. Sure, Roger and Freddie got along living together quite well, but they were probably the most similar to each other out of the four of them. As much as Brian liked them all, he wasn’t sure if he could handle living with personalities like Freddie and Roger. And at that point, they had only known John a couple months. Not to mention that added complication of living with someone you were having sex with regularly and the person they were having sex with regularly.

But somehow Freddie had convinced them all, telling them how much cheaper it would be to all live together, how they needed to start saving in order to record their first album, and how they already spent so much time at each other’s apartments, they might as well just move in together. Freddie always did have a silver tongue.

There were issues, of course, but nothing worse than normal roommate difficulties and their own normal bitchy fighting and arguing (and Roger’s temper tantrums, of course). Brian found studying to be quite difficult in his new living situation, but it was surprisingly easy to work out a compromise where Roger and Freddie would leave the flat for at least a few hours on certain nights. John became an unlikely companion on those nights, joining Brian in his studies and sitting in companionable silence for hours, only interrupting to offer each other tea or coffee. 

And when one of his new roommates came to him with a valid complaint, Brian did his best to find a compromise for them as well. Together, the four of them had a large collection of albums to contribute to the huge stacks next to the communal record player. Together, the four of them could afford almost enough groceries every month and still save for recording (though John had taken over nagging Freddie and Roger to spend less money at pubs and on eating out. In fact, John was the one encouraging them to always put something away from their paychecks each month). Unfortunately, together, they also ended up clogging the shower drain with their long hair so often they had to fashion a little net to catch their hair over the drain, though they all hated cleaning it out after every shower, and together, they didn’t quite all fit in the living room at once without three of them having to get quite cozy on the couch (which resulted in many arguments over whose turn it was to sit in the only armchair).

But they made it work. With minimal fighting, too. 

Even John didn’t seem to mind the arrangement as much as Brian thought he might. He got on well with them all. John joined them eagerly during “family game nights” (dubbed by Freddie) of Scrabble and was great fun when they celebrated a great gig with a few drinks at a pub together. John was still quiet, but seemed to come out of his shell more after moving in with them, especially when he was around Freddie. 

Brian thought it was nice. But perhaps he did feel a bit bad John seemed to take a liking to Roger and Freddie much faster and easier than he did to Brian. Other than sitting and reading in silence comfortably, there really wasn’t much he and John did alone together. 

At the very least, they could bond through music. Brian really did love playing with John. John was one of the reasons Brian felt comfortable agreeing to finally attempt recording a demo to start sending out. After sharing a flat for almost a year, everyone agreed that they had saved up enough money and that their success playing around the club and college circuit meant that they were ready. The only problem was deciding which of their songs to put on the demo.

With as much as they argued as a band, it shouldn’t have been surprising how much they argued over the demo. Before they had even found a studio willing to let them buy a few hours of recording time, they were already arguing over songs, lyrics, and playing styles. Now that they were scheduled to record in less than a week, the fighting had only gotten worse.

They had spent the last few hours in the large auditorium at Brian’s uni they used for practice doing more bickering than playing. Brian strummed uselessly at his guitar as he attempted to tune out Roger’s current tirade against the vote to record Mad The Swine. So far, they had only agreed on two songs, Keep Yourself Alive and Liar, though even with those songs, they couldn’t decide who should sing which parts. It all seemed a bit maddening, but Brian knew he certainly wasn’t innocent in the arguments.

Brian looked over to John, who was similarly ignoring Roger by plucking mindlessly at the strings of his bass from where he had perched on his amp. It was normal for John to stay quiet during arguments, especially at rehearsals. Though they had seen a glimpse of some temper John might’ve been hiding beneath all the shyness and anxiety while living together, most notably when Roger, yet again, finished off the coffee and not replaced it, but unfortunately not realizing it was the morning John had a very important exam. It had not been a pretty sight, though Brian and Freddie had laughed at Roger later for the way his face had went completely pale in shock. But for band stuff, John stayed quiet, letting the rest of them work out what they needed to, and just played when he was told.

It seemed strange to Brian. For as impassive John seemed to be when it came to the music-which lyrics to use, what songs to put on a setlist-Brian figured he must have some drive and ambition. Otherwise he wouldn’t be in the band or fit in with the lot of them so well. Brian had to assume there was much more to John Deacon than was shown to the world. And it made Brian wonder how much of that side he would get to see in the future.

“I refuse to record it. It’s a good song, but it’s too slow. It doesn’t show who we are as a band. We have to choose the best songs, or no one will ever want to record an album with us,” Roger continued, despite having been arguing the same point for what felt like hours to Brian.

“Fine!” Freddie shouted back, seemingly finally fed up with Roger. “Mad is out. What do you suggest, then?”

“Doing Alright. It showcases what we can do instrumentally but never stays too slow. And people love it.”

Freddie sighed in frustration. “I told you. We can’t do that. Not for the demo. Doing Alright is a Smile song. We have to play Queen songs!”

“It is a Queen song!” Roger shouted back.

The argument continued. 

Brian did pipe up once supporting the song, but shrugged his shoulders and returned to his contemplations at the twin glares he received. Though he did feel the urge to join the conversation, to argue for his favorite songs, Brian was still a bit distracted with his thoughts on John.

Being their youngest member, they all had a tendency to worry over John a bit. Freddie did it the most. Brian remembered Freddie’s laughable dramatic gasp the first time he saw John steal a drag off of one of Roger’s cigarettes. But now Brian couldn’t help but wonder how their constant fighting was affecting John. 

John didn’t seem bothered at the moment. He had looked up to watch Freddie and Roger’s fight with a bit more interest. Brian watched as he watched the others. John’s long fingers were still sliding over his bass, not from anxiety, but like the guitar was just an extension of his own body. It was the way Brian felt about his own guitar. John’s head was bowed just enough for his fluffy hair to cover his face a bit, but Brian could still see the way his eyes flicked between Roger and Freddie, his long lashes batting prettily with every blink and his unique lips turned down in a slight frown.

Wait. Did Brian just think of John as pretty?

Quickly, Brian shoved those thoughts away at the same time as he looked away from John. Sure, the bassist was attractive, but more importantly he was four years younger than Brian and the only seemingly straight member of the band. Though Brian obviously couldn’t know that latter part for sure, it still seemed wrong for Brian to think about John that way. Worse than when he thought of Roger in a sexual way before Roger’s drunken confession, and worse than the occasional times Brian thought of Freddie like that. 

“Doing Alright isn’t a bad choice,” Brian spoke again, trying to take his mind off of the strange turn his thoughts had just taken.

Freddie rolled his eyes. “You’re only agreeing with Roger because it’s your song. We already know you want Night Comes Down on the demo. We can’t play only your songs, Brian. Let someone else have a turn” The words were chiding, like Freddie was lecturing a child. Brian could already feel himself getting rubbed the wrong way.

“I never said I only wanted my songs on the demo, Fred. Don’t put words in my mouth,” Brian snapped back.

“Kindly shut up, dear,” Freddie said. Then he turned to John. “Deaky, what do you think?”

Now, that did piss Brian off a bit. To not only be entirely dismissed by Freddie, but for Freddie to care more about what John thought than what Brian thought. As if John’s contributions meant more than Brian’s, when Brian clearly worked his ass off for the band. 

Brian shared a look with Roger, and he was happy Roger seemed to agree what Freddie had just done was shitty of him. Brian wondered if he could sneak into Roger’s room that night so they could take some of their frustrations out on each other. There was a lot of sneaking going on in the flat, more so than usual with the stress of their decision to record a demo, but it usually wasn’t a big deal. It was only every once in a while that Brian convinced himself to tiptoe to Roger’s room to see if the blond was up for a quick shag only to open the door to find Roger and Freddie had already had the same idea. Not that he really minded walking in on Freddie balls deep in Roger. It was that Brian wasn’t sure if he should feel weird about thinking of them both while taking matters into his own hands. But picturing the defined muscles of Freddie’s ass as he pounded Roger into the bed and turned the blond into a writhing, moaning mess certainly made for a fantastic wank.

It was a bit mean, but Brian couldn’t help but wonder if John would like Freddie so much if he knew how much time Freddie spent fucking Roger. Knowing their own arrangements, the three of them did still attempt to keep their activities a secret from John. But maybe if John found out, he wouldn’t act like Freddie could do no wrong, and then maybe Freddie wouldn’t look at John like he hung the moon in the sky. And maybe Freddie would be able to take his attention of of John long enough to actually listen to Brian.

That seemed a bit much. Brian knew such thoughts were both unhelpful and totally irrational. Freddie and John did have huge respect for each other, but it was ridiculous to think this was John’s fault.

Brian looked back as John cleared his throat nervously. “I quite like the song,” he said quietly, as if unsure his opinion really held any importance. “But I think Freddie is right. It was written as a Smile song. We should be showing the record companies that we can continue producing our own work and move away from your old stuff.”

The others seemed to miss the way John has said “your”. He hadn’t been a part of Smile. It was Freddie who suggested the name Queen, and they had already changed it officially before they found John. Logically, it made sense that John would want to move away from something he wasn’t a part of. But Brian couldn’t help but bristle a bit. Doing Alright was a good song, and it was a Queen song. They had even asked Tim’s permission before they started playing it at Queen concerts, since Tim had helped Brian write the song. 

“Maybe Great King Rat is a better direction to go in,” John continued. “It has good instrumentals, too, and it’s a crowd favourite.” John looked at Freddie, his eyes seeming to ask the older man if what he said was alright. Freddie even nodded to John in response. It made Brian’s blood boil a bit more.

Even Roger seemed to be considering John’s suggestion. “If we did King Rat, Liar, Keep Yourself Alive, and Night Comes Down, it would be pretty well-rounded. Could use more rock ‘n roll, though. Maybe we could do that song I just wrote as the fifth song.”

Brian rolled his eyes. He could see Freddie open his mouth to respond, but Brian interrupted him. “Doing Alright is rock ‘n roll. And I worked my ass off on that song, changing it so it could be our song. It is a Queen song. It’s a different song when Freddie sings instead of Tim.”

Freddie scoffed. “I sing it the way Tim sang it, darling, you know that. And we have plenty of songs that were written as Queen songs that we should use instead.”

“And why should we use them instead?” Brian could hear his voice rising now, though Freddie refused to react or step away from Brian. “What have they got that my song doesn’t, just because it was written before you joined? I don’t care how many of my songs are on the demo, but it seems like you do. You just want your songs on the demo.”

Freddie didn’t deny the accusation, but he did flip his hair indignantly. “Fuck off, Brian. You know John is right.”

“I don’t give a shit what John thinks.”

If looks could kill, Brian would surely be dead on the floor ten times over from the anger in Freddie’s glare. 

“Well, maybe you should,” Freddie said icily. He glanced over to John, whose face was blank but was avoiding Freddie’s eyes. “I think it’s time to go home now. That was enough for one day.”

Brian agreed. He needed to cool off now. It was unfair of him to say that, and it wasn’t even true, but now Brian was going to have to apologize to John and he had no idea how to do that. 

Freddie walked over to John, having a conversation too low for Brian to overhear, before nodding and turning towards the door. John stood and shrugged the guitar strap from his shoulder while Freddie started walking towards the door, clearly ready to leave, only to be followed closely by Roger. 

“I’m serious, though, Fred. It’s a good song.”

“It’s not ready yet, dear, you know it.”

With one last look back at John, who was carefully putting his bass in its case, Freddie left the room with Roger, still arguing . It wasn’t surprising. The two of them would most likely walk to the nearby pub and waste some money. John would probably go to a friend’s and hang out, or perhaps go straight home and disappear into his bedroom for the rest of the night. It was business as usual again, but Brian still felt off and wasn’t sure what to do about it.

With a soft sigh, Brian removed his own guitar from his shoulders and padded softly in his socked feet to his guitar case near John’s. Brian hated wearing shoes at practice, so he assumed John remembered that and was aware of him approaching. When he heard John mumbling to himself under his breath, Brian realized he must’ve been wrong.

“...of course it’s going to end up on the demo, because he always gets his fucking way. Might as well get down on their knees and suck his cock. Though they’re already doing that. Might as well just be a fucking demo of his songs, let him play his stupid guitar solo that drags on forever. Just call us ‘Brian and Company’ since it’s always all about him…”

Shock raced through Brian’s system like a bolt of lightning. It was more than he ever expected from John. He couldn’t even be angry at the words because he was so surprised it was John saying them. 

“What did you say?” Brian asked, causing John to jump and turn to him. But John didn’t look embarrassed or guilty. Instead, he fixed Brian with a glare more withering than Freddie could dream of unleashing on his worst enemy. 

“Apparently you heard me, or you wouldn’t have asked,” John responded, his tone flat. 

Brian considered this. “Then why did you say it?” he asked more out of curiosity than anything. This was certainly a side of John he had never seen, and a side he thought he would never see.

“Because it’s true.”

Brian had no idea how to respond to that. It obviously wasn’t true, otherwise Freddie wouldn’t have dismissed him so quickly and sought John’s opinion. Otherwise Roger would’ve sided with him when Brian argued for Son and Daughter to be on the demo, including the “stupid guitar solo that dragged on forever” that John had been bitching about. Brian wondered where the anger came from, and why John had kept it bottled up for so long.

When John clicked the fastenings of his case closed and stood to leave, Brian rushed to stop him by grabbing his wrist. John made no moved to escape Brian’s grasp, only glaring at Brian again. 

“What are you going to do, Brian?” John asked in a voice much lower than Brian knew the man’s voice could go. And fuck if that voice didn’t send a tiny shiver through Brian’s body that he had to fight to hide. John’s brow tipped up, and Brian wondered if he had noticed anyway.

Brian stared at him, trying to figure out where the shy, innocent John Deacon he knew had disappeared to. John was awkward and quiet and Brian had never seen his eyes so dark, his expression so challenging, daring Brian to do something. But Brian didn’t know what to do.

It was John who acted first. Brian felt John’s wrist move, tugging away just enough for John to grasp Brian’s wrist instead and pull him closer. Brian would’ve flinched away, before he realized what John was doing a second before their lips connected. It was surprising enough that Brian couldn’t move at first. But John’s insistence, and Brian’s earlier thoughts about his attraction to the man quickly spurred Brian into kissing John back.

The kiss was so strange, nothing like Brian had ever felt. There seemed to be so much anger yet so much relief, like John had been waiting to kiss him forever. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Brian’s part. It wasn’t like when Roger kissed Brian before a good shag to fuck their anger and frustration out with each other. It was something more personal, like John was pissed at Brian for making John kiss him. That whatever reason John had for kissing Brian, if he was actually attracted to him or if Brian just happened to be the one nearby, John blamed him for it.

But Brian couldn’t seem to care about that. For all the anger that radiated from John, he was an excellent kisser. All Brian could care about was the way the hands that had been wrapped around his wrists were moving to his hips. Brian’s own hands were buried in John’s long hair, holding the man close as they snogged each other senseless, but he couldn’t help his fingers wrapping themselves around the hair at the base of John’s skull and tugging hard when he felt John’s hands pulling his shirt from his pants and delving under to touch Brian’s skin. John’s lips left his briefly to gasp, his fingers digging into the skin at Brian’s hips. Then, Brian didn’t feel so bad about pulling John’s hair. He smirked when he did it again and got the same reaction.

“What was that you were saying about getting on your knees and sucking my cock?” Brian asked, taking John’s bottom lip between his teeth and biting harshly. He took his time sucking lightly, echoing his question, before letting his tongue slip back into John’s mouth.

John moved his hands to scratch his nails into Brian’s back and making him yelp in pain. He couldn’t deny it felt good, but it was a clear signal that whatever happened next was not going to be slow or gentle. Neither of them were backing down anytime soon.

They broke their kiss, both of them panting. John’s lips were a bit swollen, and Brian could so clearly picture those lips wrapped around him, sucking him. Brian ducked lower and started kissing and biting down John’s neck, not trying to be careful. He stopped to suck a hickey on John’s collar bone, relishing the way John panted harder at the feeling of Brian’s teeth sinking into his skin.

“I never said anything about blowing you,” John gasped, his nails digging harder into Brian’s back. Brian wondered if he would escape this without injury. He couldn’t quite bring himself to care if he didn’t. “I was talking about you and Roger and Freddie constantly fucking. And worse, that you think you’re actually being subtle about it.”

That made Brian pause, lifting his lips from John’s jaw, but not pulling back enough to look at him. John wasn’t supposed to know about that. Half the time he wasn’t home when it happened, and the other half he was supposed to think Roger was fucking some strange girl he met when Roger was physically incapable of keeping himself quiet. It wasn’t like Roger ever stopped bringing girls home. How could John know that Roger was fucking Brian and Freddie, too?

But John just kept talking. “You think I can’t hear you guys at night? Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear you, to know exactly what is happening, and not be able to do a goddamn thing? To be the only one left out and have to listen to you pricks almost every goddamn night?”

Brian wanted nothing more than to change that. He wanted to fuck John, he wanted to suck John off and eat him out and finger him until he was shaking, he wanted to make John come and to lick the come off John’s stomach. He wanted to fuck John over and over again until they were both sore and couldn’t walk. Brian wondered how often John fantasized about him. If he jerked off thinking of Brian’s mouth or fucked himself on his fingers thinking of Brian’s cock. If John did it in bed listening to Brian fucking Roger, wishing it were him or if he forced himself to wait, to do it in the shower, watching guilty as his come disappeared down the drain.

And Brian kissed John again, trying to make it clear how much he wanted the man, how willing he was to make sure John was no longer left out. John seemed quite on board, kissing Brian back with the same fervour, his hands moving up to tug at Brian’s shirt, clearly wanting it off.

Brian pulled back regretfully. “Fuck, John. I can’t fucking believe you.” If Brian had gotten any indication that this was something John wanted, surely he wouldn’t have hesitated in taking the opportunity, just like he was now. “But we can’t do this here.”

John panted into Brian’s mouth, unwilling to pull back any farther. “I can’t wait until we get home. I need you.”

“Oh, shit, John,” Brian said as he dug his nails into his palm, trying to focus. He was too turned on to think clearly. He tried to remember where they were, why they couldn’t just fuck on the auditorium floor. “Okay. Okay, follow me. I have an idea.”

They separated just enough to walk out of the room, leaving their instruments behind without a second thought, showing how truly gone they both were at that moment. They forced themselves to separate just long enough to make it through the hallway, thankfully not seeing anyone else making their way through the building, not that late in the evening. Brian tugged John into the nearby bathroom, the one he knew for a fact had a lock on the door. 

The moment the door was locked, Brian wasted no time in pushing John against the nearest surface, the sink, and resuming their deep kiss. John took a moment to hop up onto the edge, but never let their lips separated. He wrapped his legs around Brian’s waist, the sink just high enough off the ground so that his groin was pressed against Brian’s pelvis. Brian could feel John, hard and hot against him, just above where his own dick was aching. He angled himself up just enough to press himself against the bit of John’s arse that hung off the edge of the sink, causing them both to groan.

John started tugging at Brian’s shirt again, this time succeeding in pulling it off. Brian went to return the favour, but John was already stripping his own shirt off. Brian couldn’t help but smirk at John’s eagerness. It only turned him on more to see how badly John wanted him. 

The anger from earlier had subsided, but the hazy, heated passion remained. Brian enjoyed this immensely when he started licking and biting one of John’s nipples and John responded with a real moan, his legs tightening around Brian, and buried his face beneath Brian’s curly hair to bite at his neck. They refused to take it easy on each other. 

Finally, Brian felt John tugging at his belt. Brian didn’t even bother stepping out of the trousers. He merely pulled John off the sink so that he could pull John’s trousers down. It was then that John drew back, his hands withdrawing from Brian and hovering nervously. Brian stopped his own hand that was playing at the waistband of John’s pants and looked at the younger man. 

John avoided his eyes for a moment, like he was taking a moment to gather himself. Then he looked at Brian, his face growing slightly red. “I’ve… never… not with a man.”

A selfish part of Brian hoped John wasn’t backing out. But he knew if John needed to stop, they would stop. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he whispered to John, trying and failing to keep his voice from sound so low and raspy.

He felt a bit of relief when John rolled his eyes. “I know that,” John said. Although there was a teasing heat in his voice, it was clear John was a bit relieved too. “I just meant… I don’t know what to do from here.”

Now, Brian could see again the shy nervousness he associated with his friend. Somehow, Brian only found it hotter how quickly John could go from assertive and sassy to innocent and quiet. It was that moment Brian realized how much he liked John. He promised himself that no matter if this became a regular thing between them, he would still spend more time with John as friends, getting to know all these exciting parts of him.

“Okay, well, how ‘bout I blow you?” Brian asked, unsure how far John would want to go.

His question earned him a cocky smile. “How the tables have turned.”

Brian took this as a yes, and kissed him again, slower this time. John wasn’t having it, however, and quickly turned them back to biting and scratching and gasping. Though, if they had sex again, Brian hoped it wouldn’t be like this every time, he had to admit that he was still quite excited to continue the rough play, even if there was no trace of the anger or frustration from before.

Reassured that John still wanted to continue, Brian trailed his hand down John’s torso and over his briefs before cupping John’s length and pressing against him hard. John’s breathing stuttered, but his hips pressed back even harder, enough that it had to be uncomfortable for John. Brian took pity on him, pushing the briefs down John’s legs and watching in fascination as John’s freed cock slapped against his stomach. Then he sunk to his knees, attempting to use his own trousers as a bit of cushion on the hard tile floor. 

Brian looked up and drank in the sight above him. John was panting harshly and gripping the edge of the sink behind him so hard his knuckles were white. His teeth were pressing into his bottom lip and his eyes were almost closed, struggling to stay fixed on Brian. Which was good, because Brian wanted him to watch. He reached out to grab John, so hot and heavy in his hand now that there were no clothes separating them. John’s breath hissed sharply through his teeth. Brian couldn’t help but tease him a bit more. 

He let his tongue flick lightly over the head of John’s dick before moving to the base and licking a slow stripe up the underside. John keened a bit, obviously trying his best to keep his reaction from Brian. Brian only took that as a challenge. He waited to take John into his mouth, continuing to only use his tongue until he had licked over his entire length. Then Brian moved lower to lick over his balls. 

“God, Brian, please. Stop fucking teasing me.” With his words, John’s hips bucked, seeking the warmth of Brian’s mouth.

That was good enough for Brian. He took John into his mouth, sucking a bit at the tip until John was gasping. Brian could feel John wrapping his fingers into Brian’s hair, but he didn’t stop him. He let himself sink lower, starting to bob his head and taking John deeper into his mouth every time until John was pressed against the back of Brian’s throat. It was enough for Brian to judge he could take John’s entire length to the root, but drew back again before doing so.

Sucking harder, Brian bobbed faster over John’s cock, trying to ignore the ache in his own pants. Brian looked up to see John’s head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth gaping open. He looked completely wrecked. But it was only when the grip on his hair pulled tighter and John let out a series of staccato moans that Brian pressed himself farther and buried his nose in the scratchy hair at the base of John’s dick, deepthroating him. The moan that came from John was one of the sexiest things Brian had ever heard. He reached down and squeezed his own dick to stop himself from coming just from the sound and the feeling of John in his throat. 

It didn’t take much longer after that. “Bri… Brian! God, I’m gonna come. I’m coming, oh-”

Brian pulled back just enough to taste John as he swallowed. Then he rested his forehead against John’s stomach as he tried to catch his breath. Suddenly, Brian felt himself being pulled to his feet, trying not to trip over the trousers pooled around his knees as he stood. He fell slightly, but John’s lips were already against his and their arms came up naturally to wrap around each other. 

“What do you want, Bri?” 

Brian couldn’t remember John ever using the nickname on him before, and certainly not when it was just the two of him. He had no idea why it turned him on so much, but Brian wanted him to say it again.

“I’m already close, John,” Brian rasped, his throat aching a bit from John’s thickness. “Just touch me, please.”

John was more than happy to comply, wrapping his hand around Brian’s cock as if he had done it a million times before. Brian knew from experience that it wasn’t as easy as just trying copy what you liked done on yourself, knew that the angle was awkward and that it still felt a bit odd to hold another bloke’s dick for the first time. Not a single bit of that seemed to faze John. He pumped Brian’s cock, somehow soft and rough and fast all at the same time. 

“John.” The name seemed to fall from Brian’s lips on its own, a plea or a prayer, Brian couldn’t tell. He was so close he couldn’t breathe. Brian kissed John again before he felt his orgasm crest and his mouth dropped open. It felt like he was screaming but he knew no sound was coming from him. And John’s hand kept moving over him, not stopping until Brian’s head dropped to John’s shoulder.

They held each other in silence for a bit, both of them panting and covered in Brian’s come. 

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that to happen today,” Brian joked, lifting his head to look at John. He was happy to see the anger was still gone from John’s eyes. John smiled at him, as if letting Brian know everything was okay between them again. But Brian’s lips moved on their own accord again. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

John nodded, smile still on his face. “I’m sorry, too. I only meant half of what I said.”

Brian slapped his shoulder. “Jerk.”

“You started it,” John replied, kissing Brian before he could respond again.

They kissed for awhile, still coming down from their orgasms, just enjoying the feel of each other. Then John pulled back and looked at Brian again. 

“Are we… Can we do that again?” he asked, a hint of shyness returning.

Brian laughed. “God, of course we can. Any time you want.”

“Oh really? Even if you’re in the middle of fucking Roger, I can tell you to stop and come fuck me?”

Brian’s dick twitched, a bit painfully so soon after coming, at the thought. “Jesus, John. I had no idea you had any of this in you.”

John smirked, pushing Brian away to grab some paper towels and run them under the sink to wipe them up. “I have my secrets. Hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“Not if I get to keep finding them out like this.”

He let John clean him up and they put their clothes back on, pausing a few times to kiss each other or to poke at each other’s hickeys and bruises. John smacked Brian’s chest when he looked in the mirror and found one particularly and noticeably high up on his neck. But it didn’t seem like John really cared much. 

They went back to the auditorium to grab their guitars, then left the building to walk back to their flat together. Brian wondered as they walked if he could convince John to have a round two when they got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, I didn't realize until after I finished writing this... this is two chapters in a row of Brian getting off on giving blow jobs. So I guess that's a thing for me now.
> 
> Please feel free to let me know what you think or if you have any ideas for any future chapters/stories! Also, visit me on Tumblr at unicornsapplesandstuff.tumblr.com. I'm always up for a good chat, especially about Queen!


	4. John/Roger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is frustrated with the band's producers and their lack of pay. John just wishes Roger would shut the hell up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, haha... so, like, I know I promised a fight in each chapter... but this barely counts. It accidentally turned into fluff. I just really love John and Roger, okay? 
> 
> There's another little time jump, this is around the time the band was recording Sheer Heart Attack. I decided to start working in little bits about how their lives work with this kind of relationship. So the poly!queen tag is finally starting to be applicable. I hope everyone likes this!

John couldn’t believe he had survived living with his bandmates for so long. Not that he hated living with them, per se, but the three of them put together were enough to drive John up the wall. They saw each other every day, and in such a small flat, it was hard to find an escape.

They all had their little quirks. 

Roger had a tendency to get pissed off at random little things at unpredictable times. John refused to fix anything Roger threw out the window during his tantrums, no matter how big of puppy dog eyes the blond flashed at him. And after two broken TVs, John had learned to set aside a portion of Roger’s paycheck for him (Roger was pissed when he realized what John was doing, but reluctantly admitted it was a good idea with Roger’s limited impulse control and John’s financial knowledge) so the blond could pay for new ones. It was hard for John to stay mad at Roger for doing such stupid things, however, because Roger always made it up to all of them in various ways.

Brian would occasionally disappear into his room for days at a time, refusing to open the door even when Roger banged on it with his fists and only responding to them in a quiet, barely perceptible voice when Freddie threatened to call the cops to check on him. John had learned by now that sometimes melancholy would hit Brian like a train and the man would be left bedridden without energy to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. After the first incident or two, John convinced Brian to promise never to lock his door during those times. He wouldn’t force Brian to talk or to leave his room, but would bring him tea and toast or biscuits and force him to eat and drink a little every so often (Freddie and Roger were still not allowed in, as everyone knew neither would be able to resist attempting to force Brian to talk before he was ready). Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but John thought Brian’s melancholy days didn’t last quite as long when John visited him.

Freddie was probably both John’s favorite and least favorite roommate of the group. He was the one John spent the most time with. Freddie made him laugh and John always felt safe around Freddie, like he could be himself. It was quite freeing, compared to John’s usual anxiety. But at the same time, Freddie was also impossible to deal with in the mornings, sleeping in until the afternoon and screaming at anyone who tried waking him up before 10 a.m. Freddie hogged the bathroom he and John shared and took up too much space on the counters with his millions of tubes and products and eyeshadows and pencils. Worst of all, Freddie was always loud. He sang all through the day and often through the night, got overexcited in conversations until his voice boomed across the flat, and, of course, he was quite loud at night when he invited someone into his bedroom.

And that was something else which exacerbated the strangeness of it all for John. There was absolutely no pattern to it at all, but quite often after they had all said good night gone to their respective bedrooms, one would hear someone sneaking into someone else’s room, often leaving the other two alone and forced to either listen or drag themselves out of bed to put on a record to drown out the noise. It wasn’t really something they talked about, not wanting to make it awkward for any of the others. John knew that Roger had sex with Brian and Freddie, and he assumed the others knew Brian occasionally had sex with him. 

But the idea of talking about it in front of each other just seemed strange and a little scary, especially considering how often John fantasized about not just being limited to Brian. But the others were off limits, at least for now, and John tried his best to keep it from getting awkward. The only issue was nights Brian would sneak into John’s room and they would get halfway through some heated foreplay before they realized they could hear Freddie and Roger going at it in Freddie’s room through the thin walls. Funny how it never seemed to stop any of them.

Maybe it was just strange because John could’ve never in his wildest dreams imagined getting to this point. He was still a little surprised every time Brian tiptoed into his room at night, and every time Brian welcomed him in when John asked to stay with him. John was surprised that someone like Brian would want him and would keep coming back to him. John was also a little surprised that he enjoyed it so much. Mostly, John was surprised because he had never had a relationship like this before. He had dated a few girls, some relationships more serious than others, but he had never had casual sex on a regular basis with someone who was a bandmate, roommate, and friend. John didn’t really know how to handle it.

It was probably the strangest situation John had ever been in in his entire life. But he didn’t complain much. For all of their faults, and all of their weirdness, the band was good to him. They cared about him and took care of him and they all had so much fun together. John really did love them. Even Roger.

Even when Roger was throwing yet another hissy fit and all John wanted to do was strangle him.

“It’s just so fucking stupid. They bitch and whine about us being too slow recording. But then we sell a bunch of albums and we work our fucking asses off and we have nothing to how for it!”

John had been listening to Roger yell for going on an hour now, after their latest conversation with their dreadful producers. Brian and Freddie were gone for the afternoon, leaving John alone to deal with Roger’s tantrum.

“It’s ridiculous! They can’t even pay us enough for me to buy new sticks!”

Roger held said drumsticks out to John, as if to show him how shitty and worn they were. Like John hadn’t seen them a hundred times just from living and playing in a band with the man. Roger was too worked up now, though.

With two pitiful thumps, Roger’s drumsticks smacked against the far wall. John sighed and kicked at Roger’s leg standing a few feet in front of his seat on the couch.

“That’s genius,” John said, absolutely sick of Roger’s shit. “You can’t get new sticks, so you decide to break the ones you have throwing them around for no reason. You shouldn’t have thrown all of your spares to the crowd if you didn’t want to deal with this.” It’s not as if John would be so stupid as to throw all his spare plectrums away just to woo already wooed fans.

“Fuck off, Deaky,” Roger growled, marching over to pick up the sticks and inspect them carefully.

John rolled his eyes but chose to stay silent once more. There really wasn’t any hope fighting with Roger when he got like this, and John rarely had the energy for arguing on a normal day. There was a chance Roger would tire himself out before breaking something, but John almost wished at that point to just distract Roger, to show Roger there were better ways to work out such aggression. But with neither Freddie nor Brian in the flat, Roger had no one but John to focus his anger on, and there was a boundary between them that neither seemed to be willing to cross.

It made John wonder if Roger would be willing. It certainly seemed that way sometimes. The four of them were much closer than most men were. With all the time they spent together between the band and sharing a flat, it was necessary to lose some decorum when it came to each other. John knew Roger didn’t have a problem getting physically close to him. More than once, Roger had forced John to cuddle with him on the couch, forced John to let him braid his hair, and, without force, hugged John quite often when he was in a good mood. 

John was also fairly certain Roger found him attractive. He had caught Roger staring at him in dressing rooms before, or after a long practice when John was hot and sweaty and had to unbutton his shirt and roll up his sleeves to cool off a bit. At first, John had just assumed that was how Roger was. But after a few mornings of Roger openly staring when John emerged from his room wearing only pants and a long shirt, John began to wonder if maybe Roger really did enjoy what he saw when he looked at John. 

“It’s not like they don’t have enough money to pay us. I bet they pay that disco group enough for the drummer to buy a million drumsticks. And I’m left with shit like this,” Roger whined, as if John would suddenly become more sympathetic to his lamentations.

No chance of that. “That disco group doesn’t have a drummer,” John pointed out with a huff. “And you aren’t the only one not getting paid. It’s a shitty situation for all of us. So why don’t you just shut the fuck up for once in your life?”

Roger seemed to deflate a bit at that. John might’ve felt a little bad for snapping at Roger, if Roger hadn’t kind of deserved it. It had been a bloody hour of Roger ranting at that point. And really, John’s words didn’t seem to be what had changed Roger’s attitude so suddenly.

“It’s just…” Roger trailed off for a moment, fiddling with the sticks in his hand and not looking John in the eye. “We’re good. We are so good. And we’re only getting better. Maybe with the proper tools, we could really be the best.” 

John was suddenly interested in what Roger had to say. Roger’s tone was soft now, contemplative and vulnerable. It was rare for him to show this side of himself to John, especially while sober. 

“You and I both know Killer Queen is going to be a hit. We worked our asses off on that and Freddie does it so well, and even the producers are pushing for it to be a single. We deserve so much more than this shit.” And then suddenly Roger was staring at John, eyes wide and full of emotion. “We all do. Freddie and Brian and you. I mean, you’re the best bass player I’ve heard in my goddamn life, and we just mesh so well together, and you have the talent, we all have the talent we just…”

John realized he had started rubbing at his lips with his fingers, a nervous habit. Never had Roger complimented him like that before. “You really think I’m talented?” John asked.  
“You wouldn’t be in the band if I didn’t,” Roger said without hesitation. “We all knew from the second we heard you play that we had to have you.”

That left John a little speechless. “Really?”

Roger nodded. “Especially after the other halfwits we tried out. No one compared to you. I just can’t believe you decided to get in with us. You had no idea what you were getting into, huh?” Roger asked John with a smirk.

“Not a clue,” John smiled back, though he could still feel his own hesitation. He continued to worry at his lips with his fingers.

“You don’t believe me?” Roger asked, seeing right through John. Perhaps it was inevitable after spending years in such close quarters together. Or maybe Roger paid more attention to John than he thought.

John shrugged. “I don’t know. No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem like it,” Roger pointed out. Letting out a sigh, Roger placed his drumsticks on the table and scooted closer to John so that their knees touched. “Do you not think you’re talented?”

“No, it’s not that. I know I can play the bass alright. I’ve been doing it long enough, anyway.”

“Then what exactly is it, Deaky? You know you can tell me anything, right?” Roger placed a hand on John’s thigh. The action was much more comforting than it had any right to be. 

John let his fingers drop finally, so that he could let them rest on top of Roger’s hand. It wasn’t something John had ever wanted to talk about before, but he couldn’t seem to resist Roger’s open and pleading look. 

“It’s just… I’m the odd one out in the group, aren’t I?” Roger opened his mouth, probably to deny it, but John shushed him with a shake of his head and continued. “Not just because I never got to be a part of Smile. It’s everything. We’ve been together for years, and I’m still just not on the same level as you guys.”

Roger scoffed. “You can’t honestly believe that, John.”

“Of course I do. I don’t contribute as much as you guys. I never have and I just don’t seem to be able to. I’ve never even written a song before,” John persisted, admittedly enjoying the feeling of Roger’s thumb rubbing at the back of his hand.

“I know you’ve written plenty of songs. You just never show them to us.”

“But never on a record, Rog. They aren’t good enough for that. Not like yours. Not like Brian’s or Freddie’s. You guys actually know what the fuck you’re doing.”

Roger laughed. “We really don’t, though. I really don’t think it’s true either.” Roger leaned back into the couch, still smiling at John. “You should put one on this album. I know for a fact that Freddie would be on board with it.”

“I don’t think…”

“Come on, Deaky. What do you have written right now?” Roger asked, looking so eager.

John’s fingers were at his lips again. “I mean... I have a song about premature ejaculation. But it’s kind of short. Pun not intended.”

Roger burst out laughing, having to pull his hand away from John’s leg so that he could clutch at his sides. John took a much needed moment to appreciate how beautiful Roger was when he laughed. Roger was so much less reserved than John, and it was nice for John having him as such a close friend. 

“Wait, what?” Roger exclaimed, unable to stop his laughs.

John shrugged. “I was just fucking around one night, and…”

“Oh my god, John. We have to play that one. Please, please bring it to practice tomorrow and show us.”

“Really?” John asked.

Roger nodded enthusiastically, still chuckling. “Really. Seriously though, what’s the worst that could happen? Even if it turns out to be awful? Even though I already know it’s not. We would never judge you for something like that.”

“For coming too early, or for writing about it?” 

Roger laughed again, his hand returning to John’s leg to clutch at his knee desperately. “Jesus, John.”

John laughed too, enjoying the moment. He let himself settle against Roger comfortably, his arm overlapping Roger’s in a way that could almost count as cuddling.

“Is that really it, though?” Roger asked a few minutes later, after they had calmed down a little again. “You don’t think you’re on our level ‘cos you’ve never had a song on a record?”

This time, it was Roger who grabbed John’s hand. Clearly any attempts to change the subject wouldn’t work on the blond anytime soon. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Rog.”

“Bullshit. Please, John. I’m actually managing to be a good friend for once right now. Don’t ruin it.”

“You’re always a good friend. Most of the time. All right, a good portion of the time.” Roger slapped his arm with his free hand lightly. John shook his head with a light chuckle. 

“Like I said, it’s everything. I don’t contribute as much as the rest of you do. I don’t play as well as you guys. I barely sing, and only when Freddie bribes me into it. And I’m not nearly as flashy or good-looking as you all.”

“Oh, John,” Roger said sadly, squeezing John’s hand. But John didn’t want to hear it.

“When’s the last time a girl wanted to come home with me after a gig? They always want you. Or Brian or Freddie. Freddie doesn’t even know if he really likes women or not and they still want him more than they want me!” John sighed. “I’m not nearly as gorgeous as you, Rog. I’ll never have anyone falling down at my feet like you.”

There was silence as a moment as they both processed John’s words.

“That’s utterly ridiculous, John,” Roger said, turning so that he could look at John again. John didn’t want to look at him, but eventually gave in when Roger’s hand squeezed his. “You are one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met.”

John rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that. Fuck off, Roger. You don’t have to.”

“Shut up,” Roger smacked John softly again. “I’m fucking serious. Your hair is so beautiful and soft and your eyes are fucking gorgeous. Your fingers are so long and graceful. I’m always staring at your lips, wondering how soft they are. What they feel like.”

That pulled John up short. He hadn’t been aware that was where Roger was going with this conversation, but now it was hard to miss the way Roger’s hand was moving up his thigh and his eyes were staring at John’s lips, as if to prove his own point. John couldn’t say he was upset with the way things were going, even if he didn’t understand why Roger would ever want it from him.

“And your arse, John. Damn. I never stop staring at that.”

“Fuck off, Rog,” John said, laughing again. He let his own gaze linger at Roger’s mouth, quirked up in such a cute way. John couldn’t wait to kiss the smirk off his face.

The hand creeping up John’s leg stopped. “Oh, is that really what you want? ‘Cos I’d rather fuck you.”

It was just enough of an excuse for John to lean forward and kiss Roger. It was softer than he had meant to kiss him, but Roger didn’t seem to mind. Roger’s hand resumed its slow journey up John’s thigh, and the other hand came up to hold John’s jaw gently. It was all much softer than John would have preferred, but John still let himself enjoy it for a moment. Roger’s soft, smooth lips pressing against his own, Roger’s soft palm cradling his cheek, Roger’s soft, warm tongue sliding slowly into his mouth. It was all nice.

But John wanted more. 

Pushing Roger’s hand away from his thigh, John reached out to grab Roger’s hips and pulled with as much strength he could without letting their lips disconnect. Roger fell into him with a comical squeak, but quickly realized what John was wanting and swung his leg over to straddle him. Roger’s hands buried themselves in John’s hair as they pulled themselves deeper into each other, and John pushed Roger’s shirt up so that his hands could roam across Roger’s flat stomach. 

Roger let out a low moan, making John think of all the nights he could hear Roger through the thin walls of the flat. Fucking Brian, fucking Freddie, fucking some random groupie he picked up after a concert. Roger was always so loud. John was quite excited at the idea of Roger being loud for him now. 

“Oh, baby, you moan so prettily for me,” John whispered, scratching his blunt nails over Roger’s abdomen and earning another shuddering moan.

“God, John,” Roger breathed out heavily as John’s mouth trailed down to Roger’s neck.

John pushed Roger’s shirt up, his mouth leaving Roger’s skin only for a moment as he pulled the shirt off and tossed it somewhere across the living room. Then, he moved his hands up from Roger’s back to his nipples, pinching and rubbing his thumbs over him until he could feel Roger practically shaking in his lap.

“Ah, John, don’t stop. That feels so good.”

“Yeah, Rog, tell me how much you like it. What do you want me to do, love? Let me hear you,” John whispered, mouthing over Roger’s collarbone. 

Roger yelped when John’s nail caught on his nipple, his fingers clutching into John’s hair tightly an causing John to groan. John didn’t bother mentioning how much he loved the feeling of someone pulling his hair. The little smirk that appeared on Roger’s face before disappearing under his constant moans paired with another sharp tug let John know that Roger had figured it out on his own.

“Fuuuuuck, John, holy shit. Please, harder.” 

John accepted the demands happily, pinching one of Roger’s nipples harder while trailing his other hand around and scratching harshly down Roger’s back, making the blond arch back. This caused a jumble of pleads and moans to tumble from Roger’s lips. John smiled against Roger’s skin, his lips wrapping around Roger’s other nipple and sucking hard.

“JohnJohnJohnJohn, yes, just like that. Fuck, your mouth is so good.”

The way Roger arched his back pressed their erections together through their trousers. But when Roger tried to rub against him, John grabbed his hips to stop him. “Tell me what you want, Rog. Use your words. Your voice is so fucking pretty, I want to hear you talk.”

Roger groaned, still trying to move his hips but getting nowhere with John’s tight grip. “Please, John, please.”

John laughed at him. “I won’t do anything more until you tell me to, Rog.”

It seemed to take a moment for Roger to gather his thoughts enough to speak properly, delighting John to no end. He loved being able to have this effect on Roger. 

“Take off your shirt, John. I wanna touch you. And then,” Roger paused to pant into John’s ear, kissing at John’s neck for a moment. “And then I want you to fuck me.”

It was a good plan, though still bit undetailed. But John was more than happy to comply. He pushed Roger away far enough for him to slip his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. Then, John grabbed Roger and kissed him again, both of them moaning at the delicious feeling of hot skin pressed against hot skin.

“How do you want it?” John pulled away again to ask, biting his lips when Roger grabbed at his hair and tried to pull him back. “Do you want it here on the couch? Where anyone could walk in and see you begging for my cock? Do you want it on your hands and knees or do you want to ride me just like this? Come on, sweet heart. Keep talking to me.”

It was quite enjoyable watching Roger fall apart without even having taken off the man’s trousers. John loved that Roger had to pull back and take a moment yet again to be able to gather his thoughts enough to speak properly. It made John feel quite smug being able to affect Roger so much with only a few sentences and some well-timed touches.

“Jesus Christ, John. Why the fuck are you so good at this?”

“At what?” John asked, tipping his head back as Roger’s hands danced down his chest.

Roger’s voice seemed to lower an octave, raspy and causing John to shiver. “At dirty talking. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

John chuckled, biting his lips again when Roger began dipping his fingers into John’s waistband. “If you like it so much, you should probably give me an answer. Before I just push you down on the floor and fuck you senseless.”

“Yes, John,” Roger breathed out as John started unbuttoning Roger’s trousers. “No, wait. Not here. There’s not enough room. I want to do this properly.”

“Works for me,” John shrugged. “Your room or mine?”

Roger clambered off of John’s lap, a bit shaky but obviously excited. “Yours. Mine’s still a bit messy.”

John rolled his eyes at the memory of the moans issuing from Roger’s room the night before. A hook up, John had guessed, from the way Brian had asked to share his bed just to get away from the noise for once. John hadn’t minded the cuddle.

Standing slowly, John kept his hands on Roger as they trailed through the living room and kitchen to John and Freddie’s side of the flat. They paused long enough for John to push Roger against the wall by his bedroom door, but soon they were stumbling inside, as if completely drunk off of each other.

“Now what?” John insisted as he pushed Roger’s trousers down his legs and to the floor. 

Roger seemed to be done wasting time and pushed his underwear off too. He stood, unashamed in front of John who had to bite back a laugh at the sight of Roger’s dick jutting out proudly. John also had to resist the urge to drop to his knees and suck Roger off right there.

“Your jeans next, Deaks. Please. I wanna see you too.”

With Roger’s help, John took off the rest of his clothing. They stared at each other for a moment. It was a bit ridiculous, John thought, considering the amount of times he had seen Roger naked between Roger’s inability to tie a towel properly after a shower and his not understanding that the living room and kitchen were not good places to have sex with strangers. And yet John couldn’t help but stare because Roger was so fucking beautiful.

“Please, John. I need you touching me. I need you fucking me. I’ve waited so long.”

A part of John wanted to ask exactly how long Roger had been wanting him, but he was already kissing Roger again. They both groaned as their erections pressed against each other. John couldn’t resist grabbing Roger’s arse with both hands, hard enough that Roger jumped a bit in surprise and almost fell into John. 

“Get on the bed,” John told him after pulling away. He smirked a bit when Roger’s hands tightened briefly on his hips before the blond pulled away and moved to the bed. 

John couldn’t help but stare as Roger climbed onto his bed. Roger bent over much more than necessary, obviously showing off his arse to John, before settling on his stomach. Finally, John forced himself to walk over to his dresser, open the top drawer, and shift the contents around until he could find the lube and condoms he and Brian stashed there. He quickly went back to Roger, setting the items near the head of the bed, out of the way for now.

“You’re so gorgeous, Roger,” John whispered as he crawled into his bed next to the blond. Roger smiled back at him but buried his face into the pillow as if he was shy. John thought it was fucking adorable. 

Brushing Roger’s hair to the side, John began kissing Roger’s neck and let his hands trail down Roger’s sides. Roger bucked up, his arse pressing into John’s dick and causing John to bury his teeth in Roger’s shoulder to bury his moan. It was a losing battle. Roger continued moving against him and John knew he should go faster before Roger made him lose all control.

John continued pressing kisses down Roger’s body, his hands reaching up to caress Roger’s smooth skin. John didn’t stop when he reached Roger’s arse, just sloppily kissed his way around until he was forced to grab Roger’s hips and pin him down. 

It turned out to be a good idea, because when John flicked his tongue out to lick between his cheeks, Roger cried out loudly, his hips fighting against John’s hands and his fingers grasping desperately at the sheets. 

“Fuck, John. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

John changed his grip a little so that he could part Roger’s cheeks a little more and still keep the blond pinned. He licked a stripe from perineum to tailbone, enjoying another intense reaction from Roger. John let his thumbs press a little tighter into the skin Roger’s arse.

“Fuck. Are you fucking serious. Shit, Deaky, is this really happening right now?” Roger gasped, his voice now so high pitched John was almost surprised he was still able to hear it. He marvelled not for the first time at the range of Roger’s voice and couldn’t seem to decide if Roger’s low raspy voice or his high pitched, breathy moans were sexier.

“Would you like me to stop?” John asked cheekily, pressing his tongue firmly against Roger’s hole for a few seconds before pulling away again, much to Roger’s dismay.

“No. Fuck no. John, I swear to god if you stop right now I will never forgive you.”

John chuckled but stopped teasing and dove in, tongue first. He hadn’t actually ever eaten a guy out before, considering the only other man John had been with was Brian. Brian had done it for him more than a few times (John was fairly certain Brian had some sort of oral fixation) but John had yet to return the favor. He didn’t mind it so much, though. And the sounds Roger was making above him easily made up for the ache in his jaw.

It took some time before John was able to push in with his tongue, but was quite happy when Roger went nuts for it. John never would have guessed that he would have Roger Taylor in his bed trying desperately to fuck himself back on John’s tongue. But here they were, and Roger only got louder as John wrapped his lips around the tight skin and sucked at it as best he could at such an angle. 

Roger was a blabbering mess, practically drooling onto John’s pillow. John felt sexy, wanted. The only other person who had ever made John feel like this was Brian, and now John couldn’t wait to convince Brian to let John try his new trick out on him. For now, John focused on Roger.

“Your mouth, John, Jesus. Ah, fuck. You’re so fucking good. So good, yeah. Please fuck. I need more. Please.” The words jumbled together, but John knew what Roger was asking for, and agreed it was time for more. 

Luckily, John was able to reach the lube from his position and was able to awkwardly slick up his fingers without pulling away from Roger’s arse. He was a little proud that the transition from his tongue to his finger was so smooth that Roger didn’t even seem to notice until John’s long finger kept pushing in further and further. Roger let out a long moan, pushing back hard, and actually biting the pillow.

“You better stop biting that pillow right now,” John warned him, stilling his finger once it was all the way inside. “I told you I want to hear you.”

“Fuck. Fucking fuck. Oh my god,” Roger muttered away as he simply pushed the pillow away, staying up on his elbows to angle his arse up better.

John leaned up and used his free hand to pull Roger’s chin so that they could kiss. He was glad Roger didn’t mind letting their tongue press together, even knowing where John’s tongue had just been. They only pulled away when John had to slow down and focus as he added another finger.

“You can go faster, you’re not going to hurt me. I just want your cock inside me,” Roger panted as John gently began scissoring his fingers.

“Hush, sweetheart. I want to take my time with you.”

Despite his words, John did go a little faster, finding himself just as impatient as Roger. He added a bit more lube when he added a third finger and crooked his fingers a bit, hoping Roger’s prostate would be as easy to find as Brian’s.

“Fuck! There! God, please, John, right there!”

John smirked before moving his fingers in and out rapidly, pressing up against the bundle of nerves each time. Roger’s moans would be easily confused as screams at this point. John kept it up just long enough to render Roger’s body pliant before slipping his fingers out and reaching up to grab the condom he had set out.

“Fucking hell, Deaky,” Roger murmured as he twisted around enough to watch John roll the condom on. “Is this how you want me or should I roll over?”

John tilted his head. “Whatever you want, love.”

Roger only considered this for a moment before struggling onto his elbows and flipping himself over tiredly. John was quite happy with the decision. The sight of Roger, naked, sweaty, and flushed all over was one John would have regretted missing. Better yet was when Roger reached for him so that he could kiss John again, like he couldn’t keep away from John another moment. 

It took a moment to rearrange their legs, John moving back between Roger’s so that he could grab Roger’s knees and wrap his legs around his waist. 

“Are you ready, baby?” John asked, positioning himself and rubbing the head of his dick back and forth over Roger’s slick hole. Roger moaned and nodded his head vigorously, but John stopped moving. “You have to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, John, please! I’m so fucking ready. I was ready an hour ago. Please fuck me already!”

“Okay,” John whispered, pushing in and gasping at how tight Roger felt around him. Roger whined, raising his arms above his head to try to find enough leverage to push back against John. But John still went slowly, refusing to hurt Roger, and even paused when he was all the way inside.

“Fuck, John. If you don’t fucking move…”

“You’ll what?” John asked teasingly as he nipped at Roger’s neck before deciding to suck a hickey just above his collarbone. It was torture not moving, but John couldn’t resist teasing Roger when the blond was trying so hard to look angry when he really looked nothing but horny and desperate.

Roger took a deep breath, ready to retort, but lost whatever he was about to say with a moan as John pulled out and pushed back in. “Yes. Yes, John, John, fuck.”

John wanted to tease Roger a bit more, but found himself too lost in the blond to do much more. Instead, he fitted his arms beneath Roger’s shoulders, letting their arms touch as much as possible with Roger’s wound around the back of John’s neck. It was an intimate embrace, only more intimate when Roger angled his legs a little wider and John seemed to be falling into Roger’s arms. 

“Rog, Roger. You’re so fucking beautiful. You feel so fucking good. So tight around me. So good.” 

Roger seemed to enjoy the praise and buried his face into John’s neck with a whine. John knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not with the sounds Roger was making and the fact that he had wanted Roger for so fucking long he couldn’t stand it. 

It seemed like Roger read John’s mind, as the blond wormed a hand down between them and began working furiously at his cock. Roger’s cries were only getting louder, an obvious sign he was just as close as John. Happy with this knowledge, John attached his lips to Roger’s again, sloppily kissing as much as they could between the panting and harsh moans. John let go, fucking into Roger faster and harder, relishing the sound of Roger and swallowing his cries. 

“John, I’m coming. I’m going to come. You feel so fucking good. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, holy fuck.”

Roger’s words choked off with a cry as his entire body clenched up. His fingernails dug into John’s shoulder and his hand never stopped pumping over his dick as Roger exploded over his own hand and stomach. The feeling of Roger clenching around him did it for John. He only lasted a few more thrusts before letting out a cry, much softer than Roger’s, and coming so hard John thought he might pass out. 

They stayed pressed together, panting and coming down from their highs. John didn’t want to let go of Roger, loving how close they felt like that. He reluctantly pulled out of Roger, moving away only far enough to toss the spent condom into the trash before collapsing face first onto Roger, forcing an oof from the blond.

“Ugh, Deaky, you’re too heavy,” Roger complained breathlessly, managing to roll John onto his side and immediately turning to cuddle into John’s arms. John giggled but didn’t complain. He wrapped his arms tightly around Roger, happy for a good post coital cuddle.

“So that was alright?” John couldn’t help asking, wishing he could just relax and not worry so much.

Roger scoffed and angled his face so that his voice wouldn’t be muffled in John’s chest. “Yes, John. That was fucking amazing.”

“Cool,” John agreed, tucking his chin over the top of Roger’s head comfortably.

“So, this is a thing now, right?” Roger asked, one finger beginning to draw meaningless shapes into John’s skin.

John nodded. “Yeah, I’d like for it to be.”

“I collected the whole set, then.”

It took John a second to realize what Roger meant and he burst into laughter. John had to lean away from Roger a bit so that his shaking body wouldn’t cause his chin to knock uncomfortably against Roger’s skull. 

“Yes, you did, Roger. We are all so proud of you.”

“Proud of me being the band slut?” Roger asked.

John knew Roger was joking, but he still didn’t like it. “I don’t think any of us think of you like that, Rog.”

“I know, I was just kidding.”

“Yeah, but…” John wasn’t sure what to say next. 

Roger laughed again. “It’s not a big deal, John. It’s just something we don’t really talk about.”

John knew Roger was talking about all four of them. “Maybe we should.”

“Maybe,” Roger shrugged.

It was too late in the afternoon for a proper nap, but the two let themselves doze for a few hours, ignoring the mess still on Roger’s stomach. Ignoring the fact that Brian and Freddie would be home soon, and would wonder where they were. Ignoring the fact that they both knew none of them would be talking about the situation anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like I no idea I enjoyed Brian having an oral fixation so much, I also had no idea I have a thing for John using pet names on the boys? I was editing this and couldn't remember writing half the pet names John uses on Roger, they just kinda happened??? 
> 
> Hit me up on my tumblr at unicornsapplesandstuff.tumblr.com if you have any fun ideas or just want to chat! Thank you all for reading!!!!


	5. Brian/Freddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise while Queen attempts to record their new album at Ridge Farm. It's hard enough sometimes living together and working together, but being trapped in the middle of nowhere limits Brian and Freddie's options for stress relief. Brian finally gets fed up with Freddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why this chapter took so long to write, and I apologize to anyone waiting for it. I'm hoping it ends up being worth the wait! Obviously there is another little time jump. But the whole Rockfield vs Ridge Farm thing confuses me a lot, so I just picked one and rolled with it.
> 
> There's a bit of bonus John/Roger in this chapter, because I couldn't resist.

It had been almost five years since the band had moved in together and they still hadn’t killed each other. In fact, most of the time, Brian actually enjoyed living with his bandmates, especially with the added benefits like friendship and casual sex that didn’t feel quite so casual anymore. 

Considering his first time with Roger had happened after mutual confessions of love (even if Roger had already been asleep when Brian said it back to him), Brian wasn’t sure if his relationship with Roger was ever “casual”. And despite how his relationship with John started, he and Brian were now at the point where they spent as much time just cuddling and kissing as they did having sex.

But Brian was surprised that after all this time, the only one of the group Freddie ever touched was Roger. At least sexually. Freddie was actually a very touchy person. He wasn’t afraid to cuddle with Brian or John on the couch, sat in their laps quite often, and loved to give them chaste kisses on their cheeks and lips.

There was even a time when Freddie had stripped off his shirt and managed to convince Brian to give him a back massage after he had strained himself during their show. Brian had obediently worked the knots out of Freddie’s back and shoulders, listening to Freddie’s moans and trying to avoid brushing against Freddie to keep his friend from finding out how turned on Brian was just from the noises Freddie was making. 

But never more than those completely platonic touches.

Brian wasn’t totally surprised that Freddie and John hadn’t had sex yet. He had a sneaking suspicion that Freddie didn’t make a move on John because he was too overprotective of him. John was the youngest of their group, and Freddie had always taken it upon himself to try to protect John from everything, especially as they began falling deeper and deeper into the hectic world of rock and roll. So it would make sense for the obvious latent sexual tension to be just another thing for Freddie to try to protect John from.

There was also a chance that the age difference played a factor for Freddie when it came to John. There was only a five year difference between the two of them, but Brian knew Freddie occasionally was insecure about his age and the fact that he was the oldest in their group. Brian personally didn’t have a problem with the slight age difference in their group, but he could see where Freddie might pause a little about it all.

But Brian had no idea why he and Freddie had never had sex. The idea of Freddie not wanting Brian as much as he wanted Freddie seemed out of the question. Not with the way they interacted and flirted and the exciting times they made eye contact on stage during a show and Brian could just see how badly Freddie wanted him. 

Maybe it was because Freddie was the only one in the group to sleep with other men. They had yet to really talk about it openly, other than joking and teasing each other occasionally, but it was clear no one had a problem with the fact that they slept with each other while also sleeping with other people. But Brian, Roger, and John only really slept with women when they were with people outside of their little group. John had even attempted getting a girlfriend (and stopped having sex with Roger and Brian, much to Roger’s dismay), but had broken up with her after only a couple months. 

After Freddie started questioning his sexuality, he started experimenting with men who weren’t in their group. And while he and Roger still had sex, it did mean that Freddie didn’t necessarily need Brian and John to fulfill something he wasn’t getting from outside sources. Or at least that was the best reason Brian could come up with. 

Brian tried to not let it bother him. He tried not to wonder why Freddie chose Roger over him, and if that meant that Freddie and Roger were closer than he and Freddie were. Or maybe Roger was just prettier than him. It was easier just to try to ignore it all.

The problem was, it became much more difficult to ignore during their weeks at Ridge Farm. The band was staying for as long as it took to get some serious recording done on their next album, but for some reason staying at the studio together was much different than sharing a flat together. They were stranded in the middle of nowhere with only one unreliable car to take them to the small village shops for groceries and cigarettes (for everyone but Brian, thank you). 

Staying at Ridge Farm severely limited their options to escape each other and find alone time. John liked to take the car out to the shops by himself, the only one to volunteer to buy supplies, claiming to be the only one responsible enough to remember everything on their list and not to spend their allotted grocery money on unnecessary items (no, Roger, they did not need the decrepit old Spanish guitar the old man at the fruit stand had attempted to sell them once). Roger was currently obsessed with a girl in London he claimed was “amazing at phone sex” and called her often from his bedroom, tying up the phone lines for hours at a time.

This left a lot of free time for Freddie and Brian, and not much room to enjoy it in. Of course Brian was used to spending time alone with Freddie. They were friends after all, and roommates on top of that. But this alone time felt different than what Brain was used to. It felt a bit claustrophobic, like Brian was trapped. Not that being trapped in a room with Freddie was the worst thing that could happen to Brian, but it made it much more difficult to relax around his friend. 

There was a tension that surrounded them as they sat together on the couch, quietly working on different songs. Freddie would move back and forth between the couch and the piano as he wrote, playing out a few verses on the keys before sitting quietly on the couch and scribbling away in his notebook. Brian mumbled and hummed his ideas under his breath, getting a feel for the sounds and only writing down what sounded good. It was a familiar process, but Brian now found himself easily distracted, and much more frustrated. It was clear Freddie was frustrated too, with the number of times Freddie had glared at him and snappily told Brian to keep his mumbling down.

It carried over with them into the studio. The band always fought plenty when they recorded an album. But being stuck together in the country, all four of them slowly going stir crazy and getting completely sick of each other, the fighting was much worse than usual. And it seemed to be worst between Brian and Freddie.

They were constantly bickering over every little thing. Freddie wouldn’t sing the right lyrics to Brian’s song. Freddie wanted the song to be faster, but Brian refused to play fast. Brian griped at Freddie and Freddie snapped back at him. It had gotten to the point where Roger had stormed out of the booth for a cigarette and John had collapsed on the tiny couch in the back room, completely fed up with Brian and Freddie bitching at each other. 

Freddie was now having Brian play his guitar solo over and over again, nitpicking over the littlest of mistakes and insisting Brian restart. Brian wanted to scream, or maybe give Freddie a good throttling. 

“Fred, that take was fine. I played it exactly the way I wanted it,” Brian insisted at Freddie’s dozenth request to start the solo again. Brian looked through the small window at John, hoping for a little help, but John was hunched over rubbing his head like he had a migraine. Brian knew no help was coming.

“We have to be perfect. And, darling, that was nowhere near perfect. Are you sure your guitar is even in tune?” Brian hated the bitchy tone in Freddie’s voice. 

Brian scoffed and stroked his fingers over the strings of his Red Special. “Yes, I am sure. I know how to tune my bloody guitar.”

“Well, something is off. So, do it again.”

Through the glass, Brian could see Roger walk back in to the little room, immediately rolling his eyes when he found them all in the exact same situation. Brian could practically hear Roger sigh, even without Freddie’s finger on the speaker button, as he settled on the tiny couch next to John. Roger reached up to softly comb his fingers through John’s fluffy hair, almost absentmindedly. John obviously appreciated it, however, and leaned into Roger’s touch. 

Freddie glanced over his shoulder at the other two, turned back to the soundboard and glared through the glass at Brian. It shocked Brian a little. Freddie really had no reason to be glaring at Brian so harshly. 

“I’m not doing it again, Fred. We need to start recording the next bit. We are so far behind schedule and we have spent too long on one bit of this solo. You’re being ridiculous!”

“I’m not the one being ridiculous, dear,” Freddie put too much emphasis on the pet name, saying it like he was mocking Brian. “And I’m not the one who can’t play guitar properly. Honestly, it’s not my fault it sounds off, just try it again and actually try to get it right this time.”

Through the rage that bubbled up in Brian’s chest, he could see Roger say something to Freddie, his face looking sharp like Roger was warning him. Brian might’ve appreciated it if he hadn’t been too busy fighting back the urge to shout certain profanities at Freddie.

Freddie leaned forward over the speaker again. “I’m sorry. Of course I meant I’m sure you’ll get it right this time, darling.” It was obvious Freddie wasn’t sorry at all. Brian watched Roger open his mouth to lecture Freddie again but was ignored.

Brian decided he was done with this stupid game. He shrugged the strap of his guitar off over his head and placed it gently on its nearby stand. Then he slipped his clogs back on before walking through the door, only to be met with an angry Freddie standing right on the other side.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Freddie asked him.

Brian decided it was safer to ignore him. 

Roger and John looked up at Brian, but didn’t look quite as sympathetic as he had hoped they would. Brian knew he was partially at fault, but surely he didn’t deserve this much shit from Freddie?

“So you’re just done now, is that it?” Freddie asked as Brian walked past him, intending to sit at the soundboard, since Brian didn’t seem to be welcome on the arm of the couch where he might’ve sat under different circumstances.

“Yes, Fred. I need a break. Let’s just work on something else for a bit.” Brian knew his voice wasn’t staying as even as he wanted it to be. It was said harshly, not quite loud enough to be considered yelling, but still making his frustration clear.

“But we need to work on the solo, Brian. You can’t just give up because you refuse to do it correctly.”

Brian’s hands balled into fists at his sides as he repressed the urge to just punch Freddie and shut him up. “I am playing it correctly, you insufferable piece of-”

“Okay! I’m calling it.” Roger sat up, staring them both down, only aided by John’s famous withering glare next to him. “Both of you, just leave. We aren’t going to get anything done with the two of you like this.”

“But Freddie-”

“I don’t give a shit,” John cut him off.

Brian huffed, recognizing a losing fight when he saw one. Especially with two people as stubborn as John and Roger working together. “Fine,” he responded simply and turned on his heel to walk out.

He half expected Freddie to stay back with the others, to convince John or Roger that he deserved to stay, not to get kicked out like a child in time out (like Brian apparently deserved), but it only took a couple of seconds before Brian heard the door open behind him and Freddie’s light footsteps echoing in the small hallway.

It was a long walk to the main house. Brian wanted to go to his room, not wanting to deal with Freddie anymore. But a part of him worried that Freddie might just follow him to continue their fight, and another part of Brian didn’t want to seem like he was running away to hide. It was stupid, but it led Brian to the living room to flop down on the couch and attempt to ignore Freddie’s presence completely. 

“And now you are ignoring me like a toddler having a tantrum. Very mature, Brian.” Freddie crossed his arms and stood to the side. Brian realized it was quite similar to how Freddie acted when he wanted attention but was too proud to ask for it. But that didn’t make sense to Brian, considering the reason that they were in this predicament was from spending too much time together.

“Why the hell are you so pissed at me?” Brian asked. “I’ve done nothing wrong and you have done nothing but ride me all day.” Oh, but Brian wished Freddie would ride him. Maybe then Freddie would finally stop nagging him, having a better outlet for his frustrations. 

“I’m not pissed at you. Don’t be so conceited. I just want this album done and you refuse to work with me,” Freddie insisted, actually stomping his foot as he spoke. 

Brian shook his head in disbelief at Freddie’s antics. He did not want to keep having the same argument, replayed as many times as Freddie has forced him to play the damn solo. “I’m not doing this,” he decided, refusing to add fuel to Freddie’s fire.

“No, you are doing this.”

And somewhere between Brian’s frustration and his urge to shut Freddie up, not even able to hear Freddie’s continued rant, Brian rose to his feet without consciously deciding to do so and stepped across the few feet separating him and Freddie. Brian’s hands went to Freddie’s cheeks and he pressed his lips to Freddie’s, effectively shutting the man up.

It was an amazing feeling. Despite the anger that still bubbled in the pit of his stomach, there was a part of Brian that couldn’t help but remember how long he had wanted this. To hold Freddie against him and discover exactly how his lips felt when kissing for real. Even before Freddie responded to the kiss, Brian was already memorizing the feel, how much thicker Freddie’s lips were than John or Roger’s and how soft they were. Just in case Brian had read the signs wrong, just in case Freddie pushed him away in confusion and Brian was never allowed to hold him or kiss him again, Brian wanted to remember.

But Freddie did respond, grabbing at Brian’s shoulders with a desperation he hadn’t been expecting, and kissing Brian back with fervour. It was passionate and a little rough, like Freddie couldn’t hold himself back for one more second. It was nice to know that Brian hadn’t been imagining things. Freddie really did want him too.

Brian couldn’t help but pull back slightly and smirk at Freddie. “Is this what you wanted? Is this why you’ve been an utter prick all week?”

Freddie glared back at him, but Brian didn’t miss the way Freddie had tried to chase his lips when he pulled away or the way Freddie’s fingers clutched tighter into Brian’s shirt.  
“I may have taken some of my frustrations out on you, darling, but I certainly wasn’t the only one. And do you have any idea how difficult it is being cooped up in this place with you, aching to touch you but not being able to do a thing about it?” Freddie’s lips started to trail down Brian’s jaw. Freddie smirked when it drew a gasp from him.

“I know exactly how that feels, Fred,” Brian whispered.

Then Freddie pulled back and stared at Brian, his eyes wide and confused like a lost kitten. “What?”

“I also know how bloody difficult it is to live in the same flat with you, to see you every day, to see you in nothing but a towel, or the morning after a party when your makeup is smudged and you look like a cute little racoon. I know how difficult it is to play in a band with you, to hear you sing and watch you on stage, to watch thousands of people wanting you and to be one of those people. Aching to touch you, and knowing I’m not allowed to.” Brian hadn’t meant for the confession to be so long and rambling, but he hoped Freddie understood what he was trying to say.

Freddie was quiet for an agonizingly long time, his fingers loosening from Brian’s shirt and his lips open in shock. Brian was confused. It wasn’t exactly the reaction from Freddie that he had been expecting.

“How long?” Freddie asked quietly.

“Since we met, probably. Or at least since I figured out I liked blokes. Whichever came first.”

“Oh.”

And suddenly things made sense to Brian. “Did you really not know?”

Freddie licked his lips nervously, but his fingers tightened in Brian’s shirt again, which he took as a good sign. “No idea. No idea what a fucking idiot I was for not doing this sooner.”

And then Freddie’s lips were pressed to Brian’s again and everything was perfect. No more fighting, no more secretly pining away for each other. Just heat and softness and Freddie’s clever fingers trailing up to tangle in Brian’s hair. It was soft, both of them quivering with the urge to make up for lost time but neither willing to break the spell they were under just yet, enjoying being gentle and taking the time to savour each other. 

Brian wasn’t sure if it was his hands moving to slip underneath Freddie’s shirt or Freddie’s lips moving to his jaw again that did it, but finally things were picking up speed again. Freddie was groaning and Brian was letting out little gasps every time Freddie nipped at his skin or his tongue hit the sensitive spot below his ear. It didn’t take long before Freddie was pushing at Brian’s hips, maneuvering him into a sitting position so that Freddie could slide into his lap. 

It was a nice position, allowing Brian to feel Freddie’s arse pressed into his thighs, Freddie’s trousers too tight to hide his semi erection, especially with his legs spread open so wide over Brian’s lap. It also made it quite easy for Brian to get his hands back under Freddie’s shirt again, exploring the thicker hair on Freddie’s torso. It was much more than he was used to, John and Roger just couldn’t compare to Freddie when it came to body hair, but Brian absolutely loved it. He let his fingers scratch through the hair slightly as he trailed his hand up Freddie’s chest.

“Oh, Brian,” Freddie sighed happily as Brian’s thumb reached his nipple. 

Brian pulled away from Freddie’s lips just far enough to look into his eyes. “What do you want, Freddie,” he murmured, moving his hands around Freddie’s chest in an attempt to make it clear that Freddie could ask for anything in the world at that moment and Brian would give it to him. 

“Will you fuck me?” Freddie asked. “Is it too soon? I’ve just wanted you for so long. Years of having to listen to you fucking Roger and John, knowing how good you could make me feel but not being allowed to touch.”

Only pausing long enough to press a reassuring kiss to Freddie’s lips, Brian replied, “I would’ve let you touch me anytime, anywhere. Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think you liked me, dear,” Freddie admitted nervously.

“You’re beautiful, Freddie. I’ve always liked you. I always will.”

Freddie smiled softly. “Even when I’m being a little bitch and force you to play a perfectly good guitar solo over and over again?” The fact that Freddie was even admitting it was enough to make Brian melt, proving how truly gone Brian was for the man. 

“If I can put up with Roger, surely I can put up with you,” Brian assured him with a chuckle and attached his mouth to Freddie’s neck.

Freddie moaned. “Does this mean you will fuck me?” he asked.

“Yes, Fred. Of course.”

“Right here? Right now?”

Brian laughed, but took his hands away from Freddie for a moment to gesture around the living room. “What about the others?”

Freddie leaned back and slowly stripped off his shirt, with what Brian could only describe as a smoulder on his face. Freddie waited a moment, seeming to enjoy Brian’s attention on him, staring at Freddie in awe despite how many times Brian had seen Freddie’s bare chest over the years. 

“Everyone but the boys are gone today. And they told me they were going to be working on Deaky’s song while we worked ourselves out. We have plenty of time,” Freddie said, almost purring as Brian started to play with his chest hair again.

Brian chuckled. “It sounds like they knew exactly what we would wind up doing before we did.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised at all. Our boys are very smart.”

Our boys. The words made Brian’s stomach tingle and suddenly he didn’t want to talk, he only wanted Freddie. Brian decided it was time to take off his own shirt, pulling it over his head a bit awkwardly while trying not to smack Freddie in the face with his bony elbow before pulling Freddie down and smashing their lips together again. 

Hands were everywhere, lips trailed down throats and over shoulders and nails and teeth made appearances, all lost in gasps and whimpers and Freddie’s low moans. Freddie’s nipples weren’t very sensitive, but the areas right above his hip bones were. Brian took full advantage of that, pressing down into the dips hard enough to make Freddie squirm in his lap. 

“Brian,” Freddie sighed again, more like a moan now, a plea for more. 

Freddie’s hands moved lower, working on getting Brian’s trousers open, but struggling with the belt. Brian chuckled a bit, but quickly helped, lifting his hips so that Freddie could stand and pull them down Brian’s legs. Brian could feel himself straining through his briefs, and quickly rid Freddie of his trousers so that they could match.

It only then really occurred to Brian to be nervous. It wasn’t like his first time with Roger, where Roger had only been with one man before Brian, and Brian had still been soft and sleepy. It certainly wasn’t like his first time with John, starting with biting anger and ending in a whirlwind of passion. It was Freddie. Freddie who had been with many other men and might be disappointed with Brian’s lack of experience in comparison. Freddie who was beautiful and smart and talented and everything Brian loved and Brian was so terrified that he might do something to fuck it up before they could even start.

But… it was Freddie. Beautiful, smart, talented, and above all else, kind and generous. Freddie who spent so much time (except when they were having a stupid, pointless fight) telling Brian how amazing he was. Freddie who encouraged Brian, hyped him up during shows, told him he was beautiful when Brian felt self-conscious. Freddie would never do anything to hurt him, and Brian would do everything in his power not to hurt Freddie and not to screw this up.

That thought gave Brian the courage to cup Freddie through his pants, relishing the low moan that seemed to punch from Freddie’s stomach. Yeah, Brian was going to be just fine if Freddie kept reacting like that to the slightest touch from Brian. 

It was a bit strange for Brian when Freddie shifted again to pull off both of their underwear, considering they were in the living room. It wasn’t like the living room of their apartment, it was technically a studio and anyone could walk in at any moment. But Brian couldn’t possibly say no to Freddie when the man crawled back into his lap and started to push their hard cocks together. 

It was only then that Brian realized the real problem.

“Shit, we don’t have lube.”

Freddie’s eyes went wide for a moment as he drew back, his whimpers dying down again. “Oh, fuck.”

“I know Rog has some, we could steal it from his bag?” Brian suggested, not particularly liking the idea of climbing the steep stairs and sneaking into his friend’s room completely naked.

Freddie shook his head. “No, wait, I think I have a better idea.” 

Brian watched curiously as Freddie walked towards the side door, peeking carefully out before opening it slightly and sneaking out to the veranda. Brian’s mouth dropped open, both in shock of Freddie’s tenacity to walk outside stark naked (even if they knew no one was around at the moment) and in awe at the glorious sight of Freddie’s bare arse. 

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Freddie to reappear. Brian realized Freddie was holding a small bottle of olive oil, which the boys had dipped their bread in at breakfast at Freddie’s insistence (it didn’t end very well, Roger thought it was gross and John completely ignored the oil in favor of loading his bread with cheese). 

“Are you serious?” Brian asked when Freddie held out the bottle to him with a proud smile. 

“It will work fine, dear. Believe me, I’ve been forced to use the like before. In fact, that’s one of the reasons the Greeks invented it! So they could fuck like rabbits!” Freddie told him with a coy smile, maneuvering himself back into Brian’s lap like he belonged there.

Brian chuckled again, but decided to dismiss it. If using olive oil meant he got to fuck Freddie, it was a small sacrifice to make. He grabbed Freddie’s hips tightly, pulling Freddie closer so that Brian could feel Freddie’s cock against his stomach, pressed hot and hard next to his own dick trapped between their bodies. 

“Hurry up, darling, or I will have to do all the work myself,” Freddie said, pressing the bottle into Brian’s hands as he kissed him again, not able to keep away from each other for very long. 

Brian happily obeyed Freddie’s orders, struggling slightly to open the lid of the bottle, and accidentally pouring a large amount onto the couch and floor behind Freddie when he tried to wet his fingers. “Fuck,” he muttered, knowing he was the one who would have to clean the mess later. Freddie ignored him and shifted in his lap again, clearly becoming impatient.

When his fingers were finally properly wet, Brian didn’t hesitate to dip them between Freddie’s arsecheeks, rubbing his hole lightly and spreading as much oil as he could from his dripping fingers. Freddie seemed to be more impatient than Brian originally accounted for, however, because Freddie began pushing himself back against Brian’s gentle fingers, trying to get them inside of him. 

It was a bit overwhelming, after so many years of wanting Freddie and not being able to have him. Between how tight Freddie was around his finger as Brian carefully worked him open, Freddie’s nails digging into Brian’s shoulders, and Freddie’s lips sucking marks into Brian’s neck and chest, Brian thought he might lose it. It was such a fantastic feeling, but Brian wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to fuck Freddie without passing out.

“Oh, love,” Freddie muttered, having worked his way back up to Brian’s lips. “You must get another finger in me. You know I have done this before, right? I’m not going to break.”

Brian chuckled, but wasted no time in working another finger into Freddie. Any other time, Brian would’ve teased him more. Would’ve taken his time fingering Freddie slow and gentle, worshipping Freddie’s cock and arse with his lips and tongue, until Freddie was begging for him. But Brian was just as impatient as Freddie right now. They needed this. 

Freddie was humping Brian’s leg by the time he got three fingers inside of him. It made it quite difficult for Brian to concentrate, especially when their cocks pressed against each other with every thrust from Freddie or when Freddie’s teeth caught sensitive skin on Brian’s neck. 

It didn’t take very long for Freddie to pick up the bottle of oil Brian had distractedly tossed to the side and pour out enough to start slicking Brian’s dick. Brian couldn’t keep his fingers moving inside Freddie, not when Freddie’s clever fingers stroked over him, twisting expertly and rubbing his thumb over the head. But it didn’t seem to matter to Freddie. Instead, Freddie simply tugged at Brian’s hand until Brian belatedly pulled his fingers out, feeling a bit dizzy, and swiftly sunk himself down onto Brian’s cock.

Brian tipped his head back into the couch and let out a long, low moan. Freddie took him faster than Brian would’ve wanted, had he been the one on top and fucking into Freddie. But maybe it was for the better, because Freddie wasted no time in pushing all the way onto Brian’s dick, until Brian’s balls were pressed snuggly against Freddie’s ass and Brian forgot how to breathe properly. 

“Fuck, Freddie,” Brian gasped in disbelief. His hands found Freddie’s hips, needing to anchor himself for a moment. But then Freddie started moving again and Brian dug his fingers into Freddie’s skin, helpless for the moment to do anything but let Freddie have his way with him.

And the sounds coming from Freddie. Gorgeous moans, higher pitched than Brian’s short and soft “ah ah ah’s” but not nearly as high pitched as they both knew Roger moaned. Freddie made sweet gasping, shuddering groans every time he pushed himself down onto Brian, leaning forward to breath right into Brian’s ear and somehow getting Brian impossibly hotter. And best of all was Freddie continuing to sigh Brian’s name over and over again, barely a whisper on his breath, but enough to make sure Brian knew exactly who was making him feel so good.

Brian would never admit how long it had taken for him to gather his wits about him, having lost all ability to think properly the moment Freddie had touched his cock. But when he finally did, he repositioned his legs and arms, moving his hips just slightly, so that he had enough leverage to thrust up into Freddie. 

“Oh, fuck,” Freddie cried out, grinding himself down onto Brian. “Please do that again.”

And so he did. Again and again until the noises of skin slapping against skin and their increasingly loud moans mixed together and echoed around the room. Brian could already feel his orgasm building after weeks of not having sex and finally, finally, getting to fuck Freddie. But he did his best to hold on, moving a bit lower on the couch to angle his hips a bit better and thrust harder into Freddie. 

“There! Yes, right there!” Freddie reached down to start stroking himself, clearly just as close as Brian. But Brian moved his hand, wanting to make Freddie come himself. He wrapped his long fingers around Freddie’s dick, measuring his strokes to match the fast tempo they had built up between their bodies. 

“Freddie, Jesus, you’re so perfect,” Brian whispered, not resisting the urge to kiss Freddie again. He hoped he never had to stop kissing Freddie.

Against all odds, Brian managed to hold out long enough to make Freddie come first. It started with gasping moans, more desperate than Brian had ever heard Freddie sound before. Freddie’s movements soon turned frantic, fucking and grinding himself onto Brian as he chased his orgasm. Brian also took that as a cue to match his pace, moving his hips and his hand faster and watching Freddie fall apart above him.

Freddie came exactly the way he did everything else, loud and showstopping. He clenched tightly around Brian and cried out as he came between them, painting Brian’s chest and and hand. Freddie’s body shook intensely, but he never stopped fucking himself down on Brian. Unsurprisingly, Brian came almost as soon as Freddie was done, digging his fingers even tighter into Freddie’s hips and breathing out his short little moans. 

They rested like that for a moment, neither willing to pull away from the other just yet. Freddie’s thighs were still quaking around Brian, and Brian still had yet to remember how to breathe properly. Freddie’s forehead came to rest against Brian’s and they stared into each other’s eyes, so many silent words passing between them.

But then Freddie was pulling away. They both winced as they moved apart, muscles aching and a gross amount of Brian’s come dripping from Freddie and onto the couch between Brian’s legs. Brian felt a bit bad about not pulling out, but Freddie only smirked and kissed him again.

“Oh, what the actual fuck?”

Brian and Freddie both jumped at the sudden voice, heads swiveling to the door to see John and Roger staring back at them in shock. 

“Took you arseholes long enough,” Roger said with a chuckle, not bothering to hide the way his hungry gaze trailed over both of their bodies.  
Brian wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed, considering both John and Roger had seen him naked many times before, but he could still feel his cheeks reddening and fought the urge to jump behind the couch and hide his shame.

John laughed too, but not quite as brightly as Roger. Brian had a pretty good idea as to why that was, but tried not to feel too guilty. It was pretty clear by this point that John would have his turn sooner or later. “Did you guys really have to do this in the living room? This is a shared living space. This isn’t even ours, you can’t just-”

“Is that come on the floor?” Roger interrupted John’s bitching as he leaned closer to investigate, ignoring Brian flipping him off.

Freddie scoffed. “Could you please get out of here so we can get cleaned up in peace?”

“We don’t get to stay?” Roger pouted back.

“No, fuck off please,” Brian answered.

John was the one who grabbed Roger’s arm and started tugging him away, before he noticed something else and his eyes widened. “Is that our olive oil?”

And Roger had to drag him out of the room, almost doubled over with laughter.

Brian breathed a sigh of relief, sinking back into the couch. Freddie smirked at him again, seeming to be unbothered by the interruption, but Brian could read him well and knew the little furrow between his brows meant that Freddie was worrying. Most likely about John. Brian wrapped his arms around Freddie and pulled him into a hug, not sure what else to do.

Freddie happily hugged him back. Suddenly it felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from their shoulders. There would be time for cleaning up later. For now, all Brian wanted to do was hold Freddie. He had no idea how things would play out when and if Freddie and John realized they could have sex too. It felt like something was coming, but there was no way for Brian to know what exactly it was. He could only hope that it was something good. 

With that thought, Brian let himself relax and cuddle Freddie for a few more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, no, Brian never took off his clogs.


	6. John/Freddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has been doing a lot of thinking about the band recently, how far they have come in such a short amount of time. He just can't help but want more. Unfortunately, John is in for a rude awakening, resulting in his first real fight with Freddie and leaving him completely heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH this is it! The last pairing! Don’t worry, this will not be the last piece of the story. There will be at least one bit with all the boys finally coming together as a group rather than individuals (I also already have a bonus bit written that is literally just porn that I've been sitting on for awhile). I think I'm going to end up posting everything else in this universe as one-shots, but I'm still not sure if that's the best way to do it. Let me know if anyone has any ideas on how I should go about posting the rest of the stories of this universe!

The last year had been absolutely insane. Not just for John, but for all of them. The moment Bohemian Rhapsody hit number one on the charts, everything changed for them. They were rock stars, undeniably. And it was all a little much for someone as quiet and shy as John to get used to. 

John still couldn’t believe they had gotten to tour in Japan, but the reception they had received was even more unbelievable. He never in his life thought that he would have to be practically carried through an airport because so many excited fans were waiting to see a band he was in. 

It was never something John actually dreamed about. He knew that Freddie and Roger craved that fame. They wanted to be legends. Even Brian for all he tried to hide or deny it had always wanted to be successful and to make his mark on the world. But when John had joined Queen, he never once imagined it being anything like this. 

But now, on the cusp of recording a fifth album, John couldn’t regret where he had ended up. He was still quite content with being the least recognized member of the band (though it did sting sometimes), able to avoid a good chunk more press and awkward fan meetings than the others. He was even more content knowing that he had three amazing friends. Even though he didn’t always get along with Brian and Roger, they were definitely two of John’s three favourite people. And Freddie, obviously being the third, was… well, Freddie was Freddie. The only person who could get John out of his shell and to make him feel so comfortable with himself and with the world around him. Freddie was the reason John was able to handle being an actual rock star. 

But at the same time, Freddie was the one fucking thing John would truly complain about in his almost happy life. 

It had been years now since John had started having sex with Brian and Roger on a regular basis. It had been years of living with them all, hearing Freddie and Roger having sex so often, and now the fairly recent development of Brian and Freddie as well. And it wasn’t just fucking anymore. They all knew it, even if none of them admitted it. Friends, roommates, bandmates. But much more than that. They all loved each other deeply. They were a family. 

But there was a missing link, and it drove John crazy. Not that he and Freddie had to be fucking in order for them to love each other, but it did end up making John feel like the odd one out in their weird, complex relationship. It was a feeling John already struggled with while playing in a band with three people who had already been friends long before they found John. 

It was just that John wanted Freddie so much. He craved that intimacy he knew he was missing with the man. He wanted to wake up in the morning next to a sleepy, well-fucked Freddie. He wanted to brush the long, gorgeous hair out of Freddie’s eyes and fight his way out of Freddie’s clinging arms to tiptoe into the kitchen to make them coffee. He wanted to crawl into Freddie’s lap when they were watching a boring movie and make out with him. He just wanted to be with Freddie, the same way he was able to be with Brian and Roger, and make their circle complete. 

John could tell that it was starting to bother Roger and Brain, too. Somewhere within the craziness of the last year or two, something had changed for the four of them. They didn’t bother sneaking around anymore when having sex with each other. Even more recently they started kissing openly in front of each other, and no one was surprised if they walked in on two of them going at it on the couch or over the kitchen table. 

The most telling part of it all was that they were all less likely to hook up with other people. Even Roger. Though he hadn’t really told any of them, John had noticed how he barely ever ducked out of clubs or parties with girls anymore, and John wasn’t even sure if Roger was having sex with those he did leave with. He did know for a fact that Roger never hooked up with the girl he had been talking to on the phone during their stay at Ridge farm, though Roger had made John promise not to tell the others for some reason. 

It was just so difficult when something started and they were all alone in their flat together. Roger would climb into Freddie’s lap and beg to be fucked or Brian would tease his hand up John’s bare leg as he lounged wearing only briefs and a long shirt. And nothing could happen. Because Freddie and John didn’t do those sorts of things with each other, and therefore couldn’t do those things in front of each other. Every single time the realization would hit them all and the mood would die. Sometimes two of them would excuse themselves to someone’s bedroom, but usually they just sat in awkward tension until something distracted them again. 

John was sick of it.

Freddie wanted him. John had no doubts whatsoever about that. He had lost count of the number of times he had caught Freddie staring at him, eyes fixed on John as he paused strumming his bass to lick his fingers, looking away the moment John turned to him when they sat together on the couch with their legs and arms touching tantalizingly. 

The only thing that kept John from jumping Freddie at any time was the constant nagging doubt in the back of his mind. The anxiety John lived with his whole life. And Freddie couldn’t distract him from this particular worry the way he could distract John in large crowds or before a stressful media tour. It was stupid, John knew, but he could never push away the worry that Freddie would never want him and that John wasn’t good enough for him. Or worse, that John might do something or say something stupid and somehow hurt Freddie. 

However, despite all of the love John had for Freddie, and all the anxiety he had keeping him from just asking Freddie to do something with him finally, so that they could be together, nothing could stop John from getting quite pissed off when he came home one night to see Freddie on his hands and knees on the couch, getting drilled from behind by a man John had never seen before. The stranger faltered when he saw John walk through the front door, but was quickly spurred on by Freddie’s keening moans and John rolling his eyes as he stormed out of the room. 

John stayed locked in his room and stewed. He heard the two men finish, heard the stranger leave, heard Freddie go to the kitchen and make himself tea. Awhile later, Roger and Brian came home too, surely smelling and ignoring the sex in the air. Dinner time came and went, and John stayed in his room, ignoring the sound of Brian cooking and Roger complaining and Freddie flirting with them both. John almost let himself believe that no one noticed his strange absence until around midnight he heard a soft knock on his door.

The knock reminded him of the early days, Brian’s gentle rap before asking if he could come in, back when it always led to a nice fuck and sometimes a good cuddle afterwards. But the knock was tentative, and John couldn’t recognize which of his roommates it was.

Having spent the last three hour tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep, John reluctantly stood with a sigh and moved to answer the door. At least if it was Brian or Roger, John could convince them to fuck him and tire him out enough for him to finally get some sleep. 

John was not expecting for it to be Freddie on the other side of the door, his face soft and his hands holding out a cup of tea in John’s favourite mug. It smelled like John’s herbal tea, the one Freddie thought was gross and made a face every time John drank it in front of him. 

“Can I come in?”

John almost said no, but it was very difficult to deny Freddie anything he asked for, even when John was pissed as hell at him. He let him in, but didn’t speak to Freddie, didn’t take the tea from him, and sat down with his legs stretched across the bed so that there was no room for Freddie to sit down next to him. 

Freddie frowned, but awkwardly sat on the corner of John’s desk across the room, setting the mug down next to him.

“Are you mad at me?” Freddie asked after a few painfully long moments of silence. 

But John still didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond. Not when he was this angry, not when Freddie had hurt him this much. 

“John,” Freddie whispered, his soft voice doing its damnedest to break John’s resolve, “please tell me what I did wrong. I just can’t bear to have you mad at me.”

John scoffed. “Why do you even care?”

“Of course I care. How could I not?” Freddie was quiet for a moment. “You’ve never been mad at me before. Not enough to avoid me all night.”

It was quiet for a moment as John gathered his thoughts. Freddie was right, John had never really been mad at him before, not like this. He didn’t particularly want to blow up at Freddie, so John tried his best to stay calm, but couldn’t help letting some of his anger slip into his voice.

“You don’t act like you care. Not when you bring strangers and fuck them in our home.” Okay, maybe John wasn’t able to stay calm.

Freddie’s head tipped to the side, but John noticed he was starting to get a little frustrated. “Since when does that piss you off? I bring people home all the time. Roger brings girls home all the time. I’m confused.” 

John ignored the fact that it had been quite some time since Roger had brought a girl back to the flat, and focused on the more important aspect of the issue. “Roger doesn’t fuck girls on the couch where anyone could see. Roger doesn’t fuck girls when he knows I’m going to be coming home. And Roger doesn’t fuck girls when he knows we have plans to spend the night hanging out with each other!”

“Shit,” Freddie’s eyes widened in realization. “Shit, Deaky, I’m so sorry. I forgot. Devin and I…”

“I don’t want to hear his fucking name, okay?” John spat, knowing he was being petty, but wanting to keep the stranger as a stranger. John didn’t need to know anything more about him.

Freddie noticed too. “I think you’re overreacting a little bit. He left hours ago. There was still plenty of time we could’ve spent with each other, just the two of us. And it's not like you’ve never forgotten plans with me before. You are quite forgetful sometimes.”

It was a low blow, bringing up John’s crappy memory. “You know what? I don’t even fucking care about that.”

“Then what do you care about, John?” Freddie asked. “Because I don’t think I deserve any of this, and you’re being a bit of a bitch right now.”

John rolled his eyes. “I care about the band. More than you seem to lately. Fucking off god knows where, any time, any day when we are all here together working our asses off and trying to make this work!”

“The band? You think I don’t care about the band? Do you even hear yourself, darling? What do you think this fucking band would be without me? What do you think you would be without me?”

That brought John up short. He hadn’t realized how angry Freddie had gotten. Some part of him knew that it was just Freddie getting aggressively defensive, the way he always did when someone was pissed at him. But John didn’t care about that right now. “What the fuck, Freddie?”

But Freddie didn’t stop. He was on a roll now. “You can cut the high and mighty act. We both know you would be nothing without me. Married with 2.5 kids and absolutely nothing to show for your life. I’m the one who got us on the top of the charts with Bohemian Rhapsody. I’m the one who made this band what it is.”

The words cut John like a fucking knife. It didn’t matter that Freddie clearly regretted them the moment he said them. It didn’t matter that he had heard Freddie say similar things to Brian and Roger before during stupid fights. What mattered was that Freddie said them. 

Freddie had never yelled at John like that before. Not at home, not on tour, not recording. Freddie was always the one who protected John. To wrap his arms around him and tell him everything would be okay. John had never felt anything but safe around Freddie, and now that was ruined. 

John felt his heart break as he slowly rose to his feet and left the room. He could feel tears starting to roll down his cheeks, and he steadfastly ignored Freddie left behind. John jumped, however, when he immediately ran into Brian and Freddie standing outside his room, obviously having heard the shouting and waiting to see if they needed to intervene. Something they frequently had to do between themselves, but never for John and Freddie. The realization made John’s heart sink even lower. 

He walked past them, finding shoes to put on his bare feet and stealing the first pair of keys he saw, probably Brian’s from the coffee table. John needed space. He needed to get the fuck out of that flat and away from Freddie. It was all too much for John to handle. 

“Wait.”

It was Roger. John turned to see Roger slipping on his own shoes and holding out John’s forgotten coat out to him. “I’ll go with you.”

So they walked around silently for a few hours. Roger had had the foresight to bring a pack of cigarettes with him, lighting them one by one in his own mouth and passing them to John regularly, but never letting John have his own. Roger never pushed him to talk about it, even when John had to sit down on the curb and cry a bit, he just held John and ran a hand through John’s hair soothingly. 

When they went back home, the flat was quiet and dark. Without hesitation, John led the way to Roger’s room, where they curled up in bed. John fell asleep crying into Roger’s chest. 

John didn’t want to leave Roger’s room that morning. He wasted as much time as Roger would allow, letting Roger run his fingers through his sleep-tangled hair and listening to Roger’s heartbeat from his position on Roger’s chest. But much too soon, his friend convinced him that he needed to eat, or at least drink some water after crying so much. 

It wasn’t surprising to see Brian and Freddie sitting together in the kitchen when he and Roger finally emerged, John wrapped up in one of Roger’s blankets for comfort and as a makeshift shield. But it was surprising to see the state that Freddie was in.

Freddie was an utter mess. His hair was a bird’s nest and his eyes were bloodshot, surrounded with deep, dark circles. He looked like he hadn’t slept that night. Or more specifically, like had been up crying all night. John wished he could feel some sort of satisfaction from the sight.

Instead, it just made John want to hide away and cry more. Freddie was never so uncaring about how he looked. John had never seen him look so beaten down, so… so sad. No matter how pissed John was or how betrayed he still felt, this was Freddie. The Freddie that John loved with all his heart.

There was no other decision John could make, not when Freddie looked like that. “Do you guys mind if I talk to Freddie alone for a bit?”

Brian and Roger both nodded immediately, only taking enough time to give Freddie and John reassuring shoulder squeezes and temple kisses before disappearing into Brian’s room on the other side of the flat. 

But once they were alone, John realized that he had no idea what to say. The silence stretched between them again.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie whispered finally.

John’s tongue was still frozen.

“I’m so sorry, John. I didn’t mean a fucking word of what I said last night. I just got defensive and I’m a fucking idiot, but I didn’t mean a goddamn word of it.”

With a sigh, John wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders, but shuffled closer to the table where Freddie sat. “I know. But you still said it. All of it.”

Freddie buried his face in his hands. “I know.”

Silence again.

“When I said last night…” John trailed off, trying to find the right words, noticing Freddie’s head pop back up to focus on John completely. “When I said that I cared about the band more than you did…”

“Yes?”

“When I said the band… I meant our family.”

John had never hated silence more than he did at that moment.

“What do you mean, family?”

John rolled his eyes. It would actually make so much sense for it to be Freddie who was the last one to realize what was happening between the four of them. “The four of us, Freddie! Together!” He sighed. “Except we’re not together. There’s a piece of us missing. And we will never really be together until we have it, and I’m fucking sick of feeling incomplete!”

“John…”

“No, Freddie, I’m serious. Do you not love me as much as the others? Am I not as good as them? Not as attractive or smart or talented? What the fuck am I missing, Freddie?” John felt the tears falling down his cheeks again and hated himself for it. But he ignored them in favor of staring Freddie down, demanding an answer.

But then he noticed Freddie was crying again too. “That’s not it, John,” he sniffed, wiping his eyes vigorously, but giving up when the tears just kept coming. “I’m so sorry I made you think that, but I could never fucking ever love you less than them.”

“Bullshit.”

Freddie let out a sob, piercing straight through to John’s heart. “John, I love you so fucking much, it hurts. It kills me not to touch you, to kiss you, but I’m so fucking scared.”

John found that he couldn’t breathe. The tears were coming thicker now, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out to comfort Freddie. “Scared of what?”

“I spent so long trying to protect you,” Freddie said. “To be that person you could trust with anything. But I fell in love with you, and I convinced myself that you could never want me, could never love me back. That you were too young. That nothing could ever happen between us. I was so fucking scared of doing anything to hurt you. I may be a coward, but I preferred being a coward over hurting you.”

“Great job with that,” John couldn’t help but say, his biting tone lost in his tears.

It only made Freddie bury his face in his arms, completely breaking down into heaving sobs. And that did it for John. He loved Freddie too much to watch him in so much pain. John didn’t want to be mad anymore. It was ridiculous for them both to be hurting so much. He just wanted to hold Freddie in his arms and for everything to be alright again.

Without hesitation, John crossed the room and wrapped his blanket covered arms around Freddie tightly. Freddie quickly turned around and buried his face into John’s neck, tears soaking into John’s shirt. They held each other and cried themselves out until John was breathing a little more evenly and Freddie’s loud sniffs had lessened. 

John gently pulled Freddie away just far enough for them to look at each other properly, matching red eyes and wet cheeks. The fight was properly over now, and John couldn’t bare to waste another minute. 

“Freddie, kiss me.”

“John, darling, I’m an absolute mess right now. You can’t possibly want to kiss me.”

“I do,” John insisted. “There’s nothing else in the world I want more. I’ve waited too fucking long. So please kiss me, you fucking idiot.”

It startled a laugh out of Freddie, which seemed to break the tension just enough for Freddie to lean forward to press their lips together. It was soft, shaky. Tentative, like Freddie was scared John would push him away or that one of them might shatter like glass. But John knew they had already shattered plenty. It was time to put themselves back together. 

They only broke away when they heard footsteps, and looked up to see Brian and Roger’s heads popping around the kitchen door frame. 

“Well, it’s nice to see that’s over with,” Brian said, his arm draping casually over Roger’s shoulders. Both Brian and Roger seemed to relax at the sight of Freddie and John kissing, knowing that a total meltdown had been narrowly avoided.

John rolled his eyes, keeping his arms around Freddie. He didn’t want to admit the blanket was getting a bit too warm with both of them underneath it. John liked the excuse to cuddle Freddie at that moment.

Then Roger grinned, a big grin that warned he was about to say something John would slap him for if he had been standing a bit closer. “Does this mean we can all finally fuck each other properly?”

Before John could respond with something rude, possibly with an enjoyable car fucker joke as John had yet to get sick of calling Roger that, Freddie answered.

“Not yet. John and I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

It was a nice thought, even if John wasn’t anywhere close to horny at that moment. He had spent the last almost six years lusting after Freddie, but there was no way they were fucking in the next couple hours. 

“Hold on, cowboy. I think you need to get some sleep first,” John muttered before tucking his face into the crook of Freddie’s neck again, making it clear that Freddie wouldn’t be sleeping by himself at the very least. 

Freddie shook his head. “I feel like I could sleep for a week right now, darling. And we don’t have time for that. We have a meeting and we should practice a bit while we have some free time.”

“I agree with John,” Brian piped up from across the room. “You didn’t sleep a moment last night, Fred, and you need it. Hell, I think we all need it to be honest.”

Roger nodded vigorously next to him, extremely on board with the idea of getting more sleep.

Freddie sighed, but relented. With Freddie’s acceptance, Brian turned on his heel to grab the phone in the living room, calling and arranging an alternate date for their short production meeting (this one was just a formality, really, so none of them felt too guilty about pushing it back a couple days). Roger walked further into the kitchen to start making breakfast, stopping to pour John a cup of tea from the kettle Freddie and Brian had heated earlier. 

It felt domestic. John couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so calm. He knew it was partially the exhaustion. Now that the adrenaline from the anxiety and hurt had finally abated, he felt a little numb. But Freddie was warm in his arms, and didn’t complain when John wiggled enough to slide onto his lap.

John didn’t get up when Brian came back in or when Roger placed a plate of toast and fruit in front of him and Freddie for them to share. Roger and Brian shared a plate as well. “Less dishes to wash!” Roger had declared, earning groans, eye rolls, and a reluctantly affectionate kiss on the cheek from Brian. 

And when the others waved them off to bed, John happily followed Freddie to his room (though Roger made John give him his blanket back) for some much needed sleep. It felt natural to crawl under the silky sheets next to Freddie, to spoon up behind him. And they both fell asleep quite quickly, comforted in the sure knowledge that their awful fight was over, and good things were coming when they woke up. 

They ended up sleeping for six hours. They woke to late afternoon sun, feeling a bit gross and sticky after so much crying. John had a bit of a headache, but found it quite manageable when Freddie brushed a lock of John’s hair out of his eyes and flashed John the brightest grin he had ever seen.

“I think I need a shower,” John eventually whispered to Freddie when he eventually felt too gross to lie there any longer. 

Freddie bit his lip and looked away shyly, shocking John a little by acting so demurely. 

“Freddie?”

“Would you like me to join you?” Freddie asked, not quite looking John in the eyes anymore. “If you want to be alone, I understand. We might not be quite ready for that just yet. I don’t want to push you into anything too fast, so it’s really up to you, dear-”

“Freddie!” John said louder to stop Freddie’s increasingly manic rant. 

Freddie looks at John again with a sheepish smile. John just chuckles and lets a hand cup Freddie’s cheek. They both lean forward at the same time to kiss, Freddie’s fingers moving down to trail along John’s leg, both of them happily ignoring the bit of morning breath they both had after a six hour nap. But John stopped them when he felt Freddie’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip. 

“Yes, Freddie. You should definitely join me,” John said with a coy smirk. Then, he popped quickly up out of bed, crossing the room and not looking back at Freddie until he was at the door, his hand on the knob. 

Freddie stared at him in awe, like John was the most amazing thing Freddie had ever seen. John was quite alright with that. It seemed to take Freddie a moment to process John’s sudden and teasing departure. John had already taken a couple steps out of the door before he could hear the sound of Freddie scrambling out of bed behind him.

John stopped almost immediately on the way to the bathroom, as he heard certain sounds carrying over from the other side of the apartment. Freddie nearly runs into his back, though he takes a moment to wrap his arms sensually around John’s waist, before he hears the sounds too.

“Guess Brian and Rog are awake,” John chuckled, his stomach swooping a bit when Roger chose that moment to moan loudly. 

Freddie’s arms tightened, indicating the sounds were having a similar effect of Freddie. They stayed a bit longer, feeling each other’s pulses race. John couldn’t help but try to picture what Roger and Brian were doing. Roger’s sounds were high pitched enough he was most likely bottoming (he tended to moan less and not quite reach those high notes when he was the one doing the fucking) but sounded a little more muffled than usual, as if he were burying his face in his pillow. 

“We should go shower darling,” Freddie whispered hotly in his ear, pressing his semi erection into John’s backside. 

It was enough to kick John back into gear as they rushed into the bathroom, giggling like school kids. Freddie didn’t hesitate to strip off his shirt, turning slightly to start the water and warm it up, but keeping an eye on John. A bit slower, John easily shed his own shirt as well, crossing over to Freddie to kiss him while Freddie kept his hand under the shower spray to feel it heat up.

John was a bit more nervous about the next bit. He kept kissing Freddie, until Freddie’s wet hand came to brush lightly over John’s back, warm from the water. Freddie’s other hand went down, pulling at the drawstring of his lounge pants and pushing them down. John followed suit, having a bit more difficulty with his own string (this is why he normally never wore anything but briefs to bed, not to mention that the long pant legs tangled up in the sheets and were just a general nuisance and… John just really preferred having his legs bare) but finally pushing them down as quickly as Freddie had.

And maybe with Freddie’s tongue pressing tantalizing against his own, maybe with Freddie’s hands rubbing soothingly into John’s skin, Freddie’s hair tickling his cheeks and his erection so clearly pressed next to John’s own in their pants, maybe John didn’t have to be nervous. Instead of waiting for Freddie, he quickly pushed his briefs down and then pushed Freddie’s down as well so that they were both naked.

Freddie was beautiful. That was no surprise. John had seen him naked so many times before. But this time John wasn't sneaking a glance or pretending to be embarrassed at Freddie parading around the house naked. Now, John looked and looked, taking in as much of Freddie as he could. And Freddie seemed to be doing exactly the same to him.

They finally got under the spray together, not able to keep their hands off each other and giggling into each others lips. The happiness was intoxicating, and the feeling of Freddie's hot, wet skin under John's palms made his head spin. 

A part of John expected Freddie to want to skip straight to sex, so he was pleasantly surprised when Freddie grabbed a loofah and John's body wash. The feeling of Freddie washing him, taking care of him, was indescribable. Freddie was gentle, rubbing the loofah over John's entire body, kissing John when he giggled as the loofah passed over the ticklish spots on his ribs. John blushed a little when Freddie carefully dropped to his knees and washed John's legs. 

It was a bit distracting having Freddie's face so close to his crotch, but Freddie didn't linger too long. He pressed a kiss to John's thigh and stood to wash out the loofah and grab John's shampoo. 

John had never let someone wash his hair before, but Freddie seemed to know exactly what he was doing. His hands were gentle as he lathered up John's shampoo, his nails barely scraping over John's scalp but making John shiver nevertheless. It only got worse when Freddie began rinsing his hair. Freddie's fingers pulled at John's hair, squeezing out the soapy water and nails still fucking scraping over his scalp. John tried to hold back his moans, but between the muffled sounds and his twitching cock, John would be surprised if Freddie didn't notice the effect he was having. 

John breathed a sigh of relief when Freddie finished, not sure how much longer he could hold on. But then Freddie reached down again, grabbing another bottle.

“Cannot forget the conditioner, my love. Hair like yours must be taken care of,” Freddie said with a lecherous grin.

And John was forced to endure the process all over again. Eventually he gave up and ducked his head to moan into Freddie's skin, no longer worried about Freddie judging him, too overcome with pleasure.

“Freddie. You're wonderful,” John whispered when Freddie had finally finished.

“Just taking care of you, dear. I hadn't realized how badly I had been slacking in my duties, now I simply must make up for it.”

John turned sharply to look at Freddie. “You don't have to make anything up to me, Freddie.”

But Freddie shook his head. “Hush. Just let me do this.”

And then Freddie was kissing him again, deeper than before, his hands burying themselves in John's soaking wet hair and pulling just enough to make John gasp into the kiss. John's hands scrabbled against the smooth slopes of Freddie's back, nails sinking into his shoulders. They only dug in deeper when Freddie bit down on John's lip, sucking in into his mouth and licking over with his tongue. 

“Fuck, Freddie,” John gasped out. “You better start touching me soon. I don't know how much longer I can last.”

“Impatient,” Freddie chided against John's lips. 

John let his hands trail down to palm at Freddie's arse, squeezing until the older man groaned into his mouth. “Yes, I am,” John agreed.

It made Freddie chuckle, but seemed to be enough to spur him to wrap his hand around John's dick, pumping softly but firmly. John worried for a moment that his legs would give out.

“Maybe the shower isn't the best place for this,” John laughed, squeezing at Freddie's arse more for leverage to push harder into Freddie's fist. 

Freddie tipped his head to the side to kiss down John's neck, leaving a love bite just above the hollow of his throat. “Nonsense. This is the perfect place. You're so wet and hot, my dear.”

Not that John was a stranger to shower sex. Brian especially enjoyed it, to John's surprise considering the man was all elbows and knees and was a danger to share a tiny shower with. But he was quite convinced that he wouldn't be able to survive his first time with Freddie in a shower. His knees were already so weak, and John didn't think falling and cracking his head open on the porcelain sounded particularly sexy.

“Please, Freddie. I want to be able to lay you out properly. Want to fuck you until you see stars and forget your own name.”

John smiled when Freddie moaned, but then Freddie blinked and didn't look quite as excited as before. “Alright, love. Let's get dried off and we can go in the bedroom.”

Freddie pecked John on the lips once more, and turned around to shut off the water. They stepped out, and Freddie grabbed them a towel, first carefully wiping down John's body before using the same towel to dry himself off. John giggled, wondering how effective a damp towel would be, but Freddie seemed content.

They hadn't brought any clothes to change into. John guessed they didn't really need them. But that didn't stop John from blushing when they walked out of the bathroom and immediately heard a wolf whistle from the kitchen. John flipped Roger off, but Freddie merely blew Roger a kiss and grabbed John's wrist to pull them back into Freddie's room. 

But Freddie's demeanor changed the moment the door was shut behind them. He didn't let go of John, but moved to sit on the bed and wasn't looking John in the eye. “I know you wanted to fuck me…” 

“But?” John prompted, sitting next to Freddie and kissing his shoulder. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not, considering Freddie was still rock hard and has started to pet John's thigh. He didn't seem upset, just nervous about something.

“I'm still a bit… sore, I guess. We were… rough…”

It took John a moment to remember the stranger from the night before, Devin or whatever. He felt a bit stupid for not realizing Freddie probably wouldn't be up for that today. John waited for the pain and jealousy to bubble up again, but if any traces of that remained in John's system, it was drowned out by his desire and love for Freddie.

“That's an easy fix,” John reassured him. “You can just fuck me.”

Freddie's fingers tightened on John's thigh, and he had to bite back another moan. “Are you sure?” Freddie asked.

“Yes.”

John didn't say anymore. He sat back a little so that he could lie down, his head against Freddie's pillows, with his legs spread just enough to invite Freddie to follow him. 

It was quite exciting to see Freddie's dark eyes turn almost black and his jaw drop open. John decided to tease a bit more, using one hand to trail over his chest and play with his nipples, the other hand moving down to wrap around himself and pump gently. He didn't want to get himself off, and John knew he was teasing Freddie more than he was teasing himself. 

Luckily, Freddie kept lube and condoms right in his bedside table. He grabbed them on his way to climb on top of John, slotting one of his legs between John's thighs and not hesitating to kiss John passionately again. Freddie pushed John's hands away, letting his tongue and lips move down John's body in utter worship until his mouth hovered over John's dick. 

“Please, Freddie. Wanna feel you suck me. Want you to open me up and fuck me and make me feel so good.” John had been attempting to tone it down a bit for his first time with Freddie. But knowing how much Roger and Brian enjoyed his gift for dirty talk, John didn't feel as bad when the words fell from his lips. And from the groan Freddie let out and the immediate feeling of Freddie's hot mouth around him, John was willing to bet Freddie liked it too.

Freddie was good at giving blow jobs. John guessed he probably had plenty of practice, but he didn't dare get jealous when that meant Freddie knew just how to move his tongue or gently pull John's balls into his mouth until John was letting out loud moans and begging Freddie to start stretching him out. 

Which is why John was so surprised when he felt wet fingers at his entrance. He hadn't heard Freddie open the lube or felt his free hand move. It was a credit to Freddie's talent, and John lauded him as best he could while choking on his own moans. 

“John, you're so tight. I can't wait to be inside you.”

Obviously, Freddie knew a thing or two about dirty talk as well. 

Freddie didn't stop until John had his hands up on the headboard, pushing down to fuck himself on three of Freddie's fingers, trying to get Freddie's fingertips to press against his prostate as many times as he could. Only then did Freddie pull his fingers out of John, smirking at the wanton whine John let out, and start prepping himself. But once he was lined up, Freddie stopped.

John's legs were wrapped around Freddie's waist, his arms around Freddie's neck. He would've felt like a koala of sorts clinging on to Freddie like that if Freddie hadn't also shoved his arms underneath John to wrap around his back. It was quite intimate, similar to how John's first time with Roger had been. But something passed between them that was quite different than John was used to.

“I love you, John,” Freddie whispered against John's lips.

That was what was different. They had nothing to hide this time.

“I love you too, Freddie. Always.”

And then Freddie was pushing into him, slowly enough for John to get used to the feeling. He kissed John, petting his hair and pulling away every so often to whisper softly.

“Doing so well, love. So beautiful.”

They set a slow pace, one that would normally drive John crazy. He usually wanted it fast and hard and rough, no matter what he was doing. But right now, Freddie fucking into him slowly, deep and sensual, seemed to be exactly what he needed. 

John's limbs squeezed tighter around Freddie, trying to find a better angle, trying to find Freddie's lips again, trying to hold himself together when he felt so close to coming undone. Freddie was so gorgeous above him, his body warm and soft and John was sure he had never felt so good in his life. 

And then suddenly John was being pulled up, struggling to fit himself into Freddie's lap without either of them falling too far backwards. Gravity helped Freddie push even deeper inside John, until John thought he might cry from feeling so much at once. The position was a bit awkward, and now there was more grinding into each other than actual thrusting, but John couldn't believe how amazing he felt.

It wasn't until Freddie managed to fit a hand between their bodies, almost impossible considering they had been clinging to each other as tightly as they possibly could, and squeezed around John's dick that John realized he was so close. He told Freddie as much, and Freddie moved faster.

“Me too. You're so perfect. I wanna watch you come. Wanna see your gorgeous face. John, I love you so much.” 

John felt his muscles clamp down around Freddie, his orgasm punching the breath from him, coming to fast to even say anything back to Freddie. He wasn't sure, but he might've shouted, his fingernails digging into his palms and his toes curling with the intensity of it all. He barely heard Freddie gasp beneath him, but could feel Freddie shaking as he came inside John. John decided next time that he would ask Freddie not to wear a condom, so he could keep Freddie inside him that much longer.

They couldn't stay like that long though, not with John's muscles cramping and Freddie still shaking as he came down from his orgasm. Freddie tossed the condom away, kicked the lube somewhere onto the floor, and pulled John down to cuddle him back into the pillows. 

They seemed to realize at the same time what had just happened. They both erupted into joyous giggles, holding onto each other tightly and kissing as best they could around wide smiles. 

John was so happy. Everything felt perfect. Freddie held him so tightly, loved him so much, made John feel fucking amazing. And only one room away, probably just as wrapped up in each other at the moment, were the other two men who loved him, who made him feel just as amazing. And at that moment, John felt like the luckiest person in the entire universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I'm pretty happy with the way this story turned out! Mostly, I just can't wait to write more with this universe, as the boys figure out what they're doing and how to handle a poly relationship. Let me know if anyone has any ideas on things they might like to see in the future, and don't forget you can come talk to me on tumblr: unicornsapplesandstuff.tumblr.com !


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